


The Sins of the Father

by Remma3760



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Drama, Incest, M/M, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remma3760/pseuds/Remma3760
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is badly affected by a disturbing new case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sins of the Father

## The Sins of the Father

#### by Remma

Author's website: <http://www.geocities.com/morennab/sentinelindex.htm>  
  
This story was written for Tammy, who won it at the Moonridge Auction. So, thank-you Tammy, from me and all the Moonridge animals. Your support is much appreciated.   
  
Deals with child abuse. Nothing graphic, but some people might find it upsetting.   
  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

Sins of the Father,  
by Remma. 

Soft morning light filtered through the blinds, gilding Blair with it's golden embrace. Jim gazed at him, gloating, winding auburn curls around his fingers and marvelling at his good fortune. Always before, Jim had held back, kept a part of himself closed off, safe from the pain of possible betrayal, but with Blair, that simply wasn't an issue. 

It had all been so...natural. Each day bringing a new closeness, his perceptions steadily shifting, his awareness of Blair growing so gradually that he never suspected that he was falling in love until long after his heart was irrevocably committed. 

Then, one lazy Sunday afternoon, sprawled on the couch doing nothing in particular, Blair had stretched out, yawning mightily, then settled with his head resting in Jim's lap. Without conscious thought, Jim's fingers slid into Blair's hair, gently caressing. 

Blair's eyes opened, staring into his, waiting. His hands shaking slightly, Jim cupped Blair's face, raising him up as Jim bent, lips meeting in the sweetest kiss. Just one moment sliding into the next. And then that night, and every night since, he had Blair in his bed. Nothing momentous, yet earth-shattering all the same. 

He pulled his hand away as Blair started to wake, opening sleepy eyes and smiling vaguely. 

"M'awake." 

Jim smiled back. "Well, almost." 

"Time's it?" 

"Nearly six." 

"Oh. Six?" 

"Nearly." 

"I have to get up at six." 

"I know, so do I. Don't worry, we still have a few minutes." 

"It's six?" 

Jim laughed, reaching out for Blair. " _Nearly_ six." 

Blair allowed himself to be pulled into Jim's arms, yawning and wriggling himself fully awake. He let himself be held for a moment before pulling away. 

"Chief?" 

"Time to get up." 

"C'mon, Chief, we still have some time. Stay awhile." 

But Blair was already up and away, hurrying off to his old room to dress. 

Jim frowned. Funny, he had always expected Blair to be a cuddler, but no, turned out that was him. In fact, Blair seemed to touch him less often now than before they were together. Sure, he was always receptive when Jim reached out for him, but...well, it was surprising. And there was the whole still using his old room thing. Jim had cleared half the closet and a whole dresser drawer for Blair, but they remained sadly empty, Blair always promising to move his stuff upstairs, but never quite finding the time. 

No, he was being stupid. They were new, that was all. Every new couple had settling in problems. This was far and away the best relationship Jim had ever had, so no way was he going to screw things up by whining like a teenage girl that Blair wouldn't snuggle with him. Snorting he headed downstairs to start breakfast. Next he'd be wanting them to talk about their `feelings' over the coffee and cornflakes. He was nuts, totally dumb. They were fine. No, better than fine, they were great. Just, somehow with Blair, he'd thought they'd be... _more_. 

* * *

Blair tapped at his teeth with his pen as he read the page in front of him. He put the pen down and beat out a tattoo on his desk, still reading. He pulled his lower lip up over his top lip and blew on his nose as he read the page _again_. Five times. Five times he had read this one page, and still hadn't taken in a word. This was not good. Marking tended to go better when the marker was fully present, and he just wasn't. What the hell was the matter with him? Why was he so distracted? 

Jim, that was why. Jim and him. Jim and him this morning, and his reaction when Jim had wanted him not to rush away. He loved Jim, he really did, but even such a simple request had sent him scurrying away in panic. It wasn't the first time, either. There were times when he had had to consciously hold himself still and not twitch away from Jim's touch. Why would he do that? He wasn't a homophobe. He was open-minded, non-judgemental, enlightened. He had been on _protest marches_ against prejudice, for god's sake. He was _cool_. 

Except, maybe not so much. Sure, he talked the talk - openness, free will, communication, blah blah blah, but he was fast coming to realize that enthusiastically supporting other people's right to whatever lifestyle they chose, was not the same as making those choices himself. He neither knew nor cared whether being gay was a matter of nature or nurture, it was simply something some people were, no problem. Just, it had never been something _he_ was, and perhaps it was time that he admitted, at least to himself, that he wasn't as okay with this shift in his self-image as he might have anticipated. 

Dammit, why wasn't _Jim_ freaking out. By all rights, he _should_ be, after all, he was supposed to be the anal, emotionally closed off one in this relationship. Not that Blair wanted him to be miserable, but if he had been behaving as expected, then Blair would be able to comfort and reassure _him_ , and then Blair wouldn't have to be stressing over his own worries. But no, this one time, Jim had to take this development in his stride. Jim had to see it as a natural progression in their relationship, and how could Blair admit now that he had doubts? 

No, that wasn't right. Not _doubts_. He had never doubted his love for Jim. He _wanted_ this, wanted it more than anything he had ever wanted in his life, but still, there was that little niggling _something_ lurking at the back of his mind that kept whispering, `wait', `be wary', `guard yourself.' But why? He trusted Jim, why was he so scared of letting go? And what was he going to do about it, because even if Jim hadn't said anything, he had certainly noticed. 

Sighing, he dropped his head into his hands. He was going to have to think this through, try to find the source of his unease, however much he didn't want to. Later. He would think about it later, because right now, he had to finish this grading so that he could go to the station. But he would definitely have to sit down and do some thinking. He owed it to Jim, because Jim deserved more, Jim deserved the best that Blair could give him. 

* * *

Casting another surreptitious glance at Simon's office, Jim ruthlessly suppressed the temptation to listen in on his conversation. He had been closeted away in there with Martha for over half an hour, and by the looks of things, whatever they were talking about was serious. He really hoped they weren't breaking up. 

Dammit, he didn't _want_ them to break up. He _liked_ Martha. Had liked her since the first moment she walked into the bullpen. Martha Jackson, Cascade's newest ADA, keen as mustard and eager to get started on her first case. She was certainly hard to miss as she swayed gracefully and confidently towards them. At just a shade under six foot, slim, doe eyed, black curls cropped close to her elegant head and flawless ebony skin she was she was without doubt a showstopper. 

He was distracted from his contemplation of the new arrival by a spluttering just behind his left shoulder, and turned to find Simon choking on the coffee he had snorted up his nose at first sight of this vision. Looking back at Martha, he could see the amusement lurking in her eyes, but it was when she greeted Simon without any indication that she was aware of his embarrassing predicament that Jim decided that here was a woman he could get to like. 

For Simon, it was a lot more. Jim would catch him gazing into space, humming to himself and once, sappily caressing Martha's case files. But still, Simon never made a move. Mystified, Jim cornered him and demanded to know why he was letting this amazing woman slip through his fingers. When Simon reluctantly admitted that he was holding back because he was concerned about the age difference, Jim told him bluntly that he thought he was being ridiculous. Here he had this beautiful, fun, intelligent person, who he really liked, and who really liked him, and seriously, how often was that going to happen, and yet here he was, wasting time worrying about unimportant details. Was he insane? Besides, she was near enough the same age as Blair, so it was hardly cradle snatching. 

Startled, Simon had looked thoughtful, and before long he and Martha were blissfully dating, and had been so ever since. But now something was going on, and Jim really wanted to know what. 

"Hey, Jim, what's up?" 

Jim turned a warm smile on Blair, before turning back to his study of Simon's office. 

"Martha's here. She's been in there for ages. I think something's wrong." 

"They're not breaking up are they? God, I hope not. I _like_ Martha." 

"I know. Me too, and I have no idea what's happening." 

"You haven't been...you know?" Blair waved his hands at Jim's ears and twitched his head at the closed office door. 

"No. Thought about it, but I know I wouldn't want Simon eavesdropping on our private conversations, so I resisted." 

"Good for you. You think they'll tell us what's up?" 

"Yes." 

Blair looked surprised. "Woah, developing a sixth sense to go along with the others?" 

"Just reading the signs, Chief." 

"What signs?" 

"Simon, standing in the doorway, beckoning us over." 

"Huh?" Blair looked over his shoulder to see that Jim was right. Laughing, he whacked Jim on the arm before grabbing his sleeve and tugging him toward the office. 

* * *

Blair cast a quick sideways glance at Jim. So, this was weird. Here they all were, seated around Simon's table all solemn and reserved like players in a bridge tournament, no-one saying a word. Well, he at least wanted to know what was going on. "Hey, what's going on?" 

Martha started, then smiled nervously. "Sorry, I, um, have a favour to ask and I'm not sure how to start." 

Blair exchanged a puzzled glance with Jim, both of them concerned by Martha's unease and Simon's downcast scowl. Jim shrugged, reaching out to pat Martha's hand comfortingly. "Martha, whatever it is, Blair and I will do our best to help." 

"Absolutely, anything we can do." 

"I know you will guys, and thank-you, that's not...it's just hard to talk about." Taking a deep breath she looked up at them, almost pulling off a smile. "Okay, I got a call last night from my closest friend from school. I could tell she was upset, and I assumed it had something to do with her marriage. She left her husband, and moved herself and her son back to her parents home about three months ago, and I have to say, I was surprised. Sure, she and Robert fought sometimes, mostly about the amount of time Robert spent working, but still, they always seemed so...I don't know... _right_ together. Happy. I guess I thought this was just a hiccup, and that eventually they would sort things out and get back together. I thought she was upset because that hadn't happened. I never suspected... Anyway, I went 'round to see her, and at first, she wouldn't say anything, except that she had filed for divorce. But I _knew_ there was more, and I, well, I pushed, and then it all came out. I found out that she left Robert because he was...she told me Robert had been abusing their five year old son, Andy" 

Shaken, Blair turned to Jim, mouth open, but no words coming out. Jim was nodding, obviously troubled. 

"Martha, look, I know this is your friend. I don't want to... but, you know, it is possible that she's...uh..." 

"Making it up to get back at her ex?" 

"It does happen, Martha. I'm not saying it's the case here, but sometimes, in these situations..." 

"Jim, I know that, and I admit, I did consider that. Ellen is my friend, but I've come to know Robert well over the years, and I never would have believed...but it _is_ true. There's evidence, Jim. Medical evidence. Believe me, there is _no_ doubt that Andy was abused." 

Pausing, Martha looked down at her clenched hands, deliberately relaxing them . "Six months ago, little Andy, Ellen's five year old baby, my adorable little godson, changed. He changed so much. Went from a joyful, smart little boy, to an anxious, sick child. He had constant stomach-aches, started wetting his bed, had panic attacks and breathing difficulties. Robert and Ellen were distraught, took him for all kinds of tests." 

"At first, the tests found nothing, so they agreed that Andy should see the school counsellor. I don't know exactly what he told her, only that whatever it was, it concerned her enough to order a new round of tests. What they found, what those new tests found, was that Andy, that dear, sweet little boy, had somehow contracted gonorrhoea of the throat." 

Blair gasped, eyes wide with shock. "But...how could...how long had...bastard, he should rot in hell for _ever_. God." 

Unconsciously, Jim reached out to stroke Blair's arm, his attention still on Martha. "That's...awful, but why is she so sure her husband is the abuser. Has Andy named him?" 

"Andy hasn't named anyone. Andy isn't talking. At all. He's too traumatised. But it _has_ to be Robert, because there's no one _else_ , Jim. Ellen is a _good_ mother. Andy is never left alone with strangers, he's never had a sleepover, the only babysitter she trusts is her own mother, even his teacher is female. Robert is simply the only man that has had unrestricted access to Andy. It _has_ to be him." 

"I see. I'm still not clear on what it is you want from us, Martha." 

Martha glared fiercely at Jim. "Evidence. There was an investigation, of course, and while the officers were convinced of Robert's guilt, there was no _evidence_ , so he couldn't be charged, and now he's suing for access and Ellen is frantic." 

Blair practically bounced out of his seat in agitation. "No, that's so wrong! Jim, we have to help. I mean, this poor woman, she's doing everything she can to protect her son, and now the courts could screw up everything because of some crazy rules." 

"Chief, those rules are there to protect the innocent, and technically, that's what Robert is until proven guilty." 

"Jim, how many times have I heard to gripe about some perp getting off on a technicality, and now you're using it to justify..." 

"I'm not justifying anything. I'm just saying, if there's no evidence I don't see what we can do. Martha, if there's already been an investigation..." 

"Come on, Jim, you know what it's like, the pressures, the burden of too many cases and too little time. This was just a case to them, one of many, but to me, it's the life of a child I love. I'm not asking you to fabricate evidence, just to take another look. You and Blair have the best solve rate on the force, and that's because you're the best. Please, all I ask is that you ask a few questions, check everything out one more time, and if there's still nothing, then at least I can tell Ellen that I tried." 

"Jim..." 

"I know, Chief. Simon, you haven`t said anything yet, what do you think about all of this?" 

"Look, I wouldn't usually interfere with another departments case, but we both know how overloaded SVU is right now. If it helps, I could give Captain Bates a call, make sure we aren't stepping on any toes." 

"See, even Simon thinks we should do it." 

"Do you Simon?" 

"It wouldn't hurt to check a few things out, maybe have a word with this Robert. I trust you to know if he's lying, Jim." 

Jim turned to look at Blair, sighing at his pleading expression. "Make that call, Simon. Clear it with the SVU, and we`ll do it." 

* * *

Jim was starting to worry. By now, he would have expected Blair to treat him to an entire thesis on the cause and effect of abusive behaviour on the victim and perpetrator, citing numerous historical examples and case histories to support his theories. He might then move on to the role of the child in primitive cultures and how various tribal societies dealt with any violence against it`s weakest members. But no, nothing. Not one single word. He wasn't even twitching. 

In fact, he had become increasingly withdrawn as he had worked his way through the case files. As expected, SVU had been delighted to hand over a troublesome case, the investigating detectives even bringing up the files themselves, and then staying to run through the pertinent details and answer any questions. It was obvious that they had been thorough, and that the lack of a result was deeply frustrating to them. Jim had to wonder what more he could add, but he had promised, so he would do his best. 

Perhaps that was what was disturbing Blair; the possibility of failure. It was always so much harder when the victim was a child. He frowned, wondering if any of this was a good idea. Blair was already so involved. How would he react if their investigations turned up nothing? How much worse would it be if his sentinel abilities could detect the lies, but they could still find nothing that would hold up in court? But no, doing nothing was not an option. There was a child at risk here. They had to do everything they could. And it was always possible that they would turn up something that had been missed before. 

So now here they were, on their way to see Robert Lincoln, and they were going to get nowhere if Blair let his emotions run out of control. "Blair, how are you doing?" 

"Me? I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" 

"Because you're not acting fine. You're acting like...well, like me, I guess." 

"And this is bad?" 

"It is when you're you. One me in this relationship is quite enough, don't you think?" 

Blair smiled, shaking his head. "And he wants to know if _I'm_ fine." 

Jim smiled back, happy to see Blair's mood lightening, surprised by how much it disturbed him to have Blair so down. And it could only get worse, there being no chance of Blair maintaining any distance from this investigation. Damn, he had a bad feeling about this, and he was beginning to think that there was more going on with Blair than simply concern over this case. He just wished he knew what. Protecting Blair was the most important thing in the world to him, but it was hard when he didn't know what he was protecting him from. Damn, he had a _really_ bad feeling about this. 

* * *

Blair's first thought when he saw Robert Lincoln was, `no, that's not him'. The force of his belief shook him, leaving him confused and disorientated. What was wrong with him? Surely he knew better than that? Just because a person behaved monstrously, there was no reason to expect them to appear monstrous. Except, that wasn't quite it. He _hadn't_ expected to be confronted by the devil, but he _had_ expected something, and that something had most definitely not been five foot ten, thinning light brown hair, frank blue eyes, dressed in banana republic t-shirt and jeans. 

He dug his fingernails into his palm, trying to get back his focus, shocked to find that he had completely missed the introductions, and that Jim was looking at him, clearly worried. He made his `I'm fine' face, pushing Jim towards the couches where Lincoln was already seated. 

This wouldn't do. He needed to concentrate, stay alert. He took a deep breath, directing his full attention on Jim's questioning of their suspect. 

"Thank-you for taking the time to see us, Mr. Lincoln." 

"What, I had a choice? Sorry, I'm a little...it's no problem. I have all the time in the world, now that I no longer have a job." 

"You were fired?" 

"Oh yeah. Daddy-in Law saw to that. He never liked me, even before all this. Not good enough for his baby girl. As far as he's concerned, it was only a matter of time before I screwed up." 

"You think he's happy this happened?" 

"No. No, of course not. But he's sure as hell happy to have Ellen back under his roof. Andy, too." 

"So did you work for him?" 

"God, no. He wanted me to, at least, that's what he told Ellen. Personally, I think he liked the idea of having me under his thumb. No way was I going to give him that much control over my life. Not that it mattered in the end. A few words in the right ear, and I was out." 

"He has that much power?" 

"Sure. Didn't anyone tell you who he is? Councillor Howard Lawler. Cascade's leading campaigner for Truth, Justice and the American way." 

"Him and Superman." 

"Who needs Superman when you have old Howie. Not that I'm bitter. Look, sorry, I didn't mean to vent. I don't get to talk to that many people these days. Why don't we get started." 

"I assume I don't need to explain why we're here." 

"No, and I'm ready to answer all your questions, although I've already told the other officers all I know." 

"Yes, I read the report. I'd like to clarify a few points." 

"Fine. I didn't do it, by the way, not that I expect you to believe me." 

"Why would you assume that?" 

Lincoln shrugged hopelessly. "Why would you, no-one else has. Not even my own wife." 

"How do you feel about that, that your wife believes you abused your son?" 

"How do you think? Sick, hurt, devastated, pretty much destroyed, if you really want to know. I mean, how would you feel if the one person in the world that you were closest to, the one person you thought really knew you, believed that you could do something so terrible. It's...it...hurts, okay?" 

"Okay. Why..." 

"But that's not the worst part of it. No, losing my wife, my son, my job, losing everything I had that mattered, _none_ of that is the worst part. The worst, the absolute _worst_ thing, is that I _know_ that I didn't abuse my son." 

"And that's the worst because?" 

"Because somebody did. Because everyone is assuming it was me, so no-one's even looking for the real slimebag who hurt my little boy. Because maybe that slimebag is _still_ hurting my little boy and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I haven't even been allowed to _see_ him for three months. I feel like I'm going crazy, here. So, please, investigate, investigate all you want, because right now, it would even be a relief to be charged. At least then, I could do something about proving my innocence, instead of being trapped in this limbo, where everyone I love, hell, everyone I _know_ looks at me like I'm lower that pond scum, but no-one will _ask_ , so I can't even defend myself. Look, sorry, maybe I'm not ready to...sorry, this is..." 

"Hard?" 

"Oh hell, yeah." 

"So who do you think hurt your son?" 

"I don't know, and believe me, I've thought of nothing else since we found out what had happened. But, there really isn't anyone. We were _careful_ with him. We watched him, we _thought_ we protected him, but I guess we were wrong. We failed him, but I don't know how. I just _don't know_ , and it's killing me." 

"Andy tested positive for gonorrhoea. Have you been tested?" 

"Yes. Negative, but apparently that proves nothing, as it's easily treatable, and no-one can be sure exactly when Andy was infected." 

"The earliest tests didn't pick it up, did they?" 

"No, but then, they weren't looking for it. That's not what you usually check for in sick children. The second time, his councillor specifically requested that he be tested for STD's, and I guess any other signs of abuse." 

"Right. Well, that's all for now. I may need to see you again after I've checked out some details." Jim reached into his pocket, pulling out a card and handing it over. "If you think of anything, even the smallest detail, don't hesitate to call. Thank-you for your time. Sandburg, you set to go?" 

"Huh? Oh, yes, sure. We're done?" They were done? 

Blair stood, still feeling dazed. That had not gone as he'd anticipated. _Nothing_ about this case was as he'd anticipated. This was...disturbing. He needed to get out of here. Now. He started toward the door, almost running, not even checking to see if Jim was following, and didn't stop until he reached the truck. 

* * *

Jim paused in the doorway, watching Blair for a moment. He had his hands pressed flat against the hood, leaning forward and breathing deeply. Jim wanted to go to him, hold him, make everything better, but he knew that was impossible. The best thing he could do for Blair right now was to give him space and be there to listen when he was ready to talk. 

He waited a moment, looking around, instinctively checking for danger. He frowned at a tan civic hatchback parked near a few hundred yards up the road. He was sure he had seen that car drive by as they were parking, driven by the man still sitting inside. Probably waiting for someone. Although he did seem to be looking their way. No, it was almost certainly nothing. Not everyone was a criminal, staking out potential targets. Besides what kind of crook drove a Honda? 

"Jim, hey, Jim, you zoning?" 

"Huh?" 

"You were zoning, Jim." 

"I was not. I was thinking." 

"Right, and this thinking was so intense I had to call you three times before you heard." 

"Maybe I heard but decided to ignore you, ever consider that?" 

Blair laughed, punching Jim lightly on the arm. "Ignoring me were you, well, just remember who's doing the food shopping this week. I see a diet of wheat grass shakes, tofu and muesli in your future." 

"Damn, your scarier than a busload of psycho hitmen. If I promise to hang on your every word do I get burgers and fries?" 

"Throw in a little abject grovelling and I'll consider it." 

"Gee, I'd love to but you know, my back." 

"Oh, that's right, your bones do start to get brittle as you get older. Goes with the hair loss." 

"I am _not_ losing my hair. Admittedly, it is receding, but..." 

"Receding? If it receded any further it would be in Canada." 

"Hey, we can't all look like something a cat would hack up," Jim laughed, reaching out to ruffle Blair's curls. Blair smiled back, then ducked his head, realising that he had almost forgotten why they were there. Immediately solemn, he looked back at Jim. "So, did you get anything form Lincoln? Anything we can use?" 

"Yes, yes I did. He was telling us the truth, Chief. I'd swear to it. He never abused his son." 

"What? Are you sure? How is that possible?" 

"I don't know, but if he was lying I wasn't picking it up." 

"Could he have been faking, I mean, some people train themselves so that they can beat lie detectors. It is possible." 

"I guess, but how would he know he needed to? He's never heard of sentinels, so why would he be on his guard in front of me?" 

"I don't know, but you heard what Martha said, it _has_ to be him. There isn`t anyone else." 

"There must be. I think Lincoln was right. Once he was in the frame, the investigation effectively ended. They had their suspect, so no need to look for anyone else, but that doesn't mean that there _isn't_ anyone else. I mean, come on, this is a kid. You can't be watching them every second of every day. I don't know, something's not right. Whatever's going on, it's even more important now that we figure it out, because Lincoln's right about that, too. Whoever is abusing that child is free to keep on doing it as long as Lincoln is the only suspect." 

"I know. We should go see Ellen and Andy right away, maybe..." 

"We can't, Chief, you know that. Martha set up an appointment for us at three tomorrow. We can't just turn up unannounced." 

"But..." 

"This is a traumatised child we're dealing with. He needs some sort of routine, some order in his life to feel safe." 

Blair sighed. "Yeah, I guess. So what now?" 

"Now we go home, forget all about the case for the night and start fresh tomorrow. What's your schedule at school?" 

"I have a class and some tutorial sessions `till one, then I'm free for the rest of the day." 

"Fine. I'll go see the doctors who tested Andy, both times, see if I can pinpoint when he might have contracted gonorrhoea. I'll check in with the social workers assigned to this case too, see if the report missed anything relevant. It was all about getting enough evidence to put Lincoln away after all, so maybe they have something about other contacts that they didn't think mattered. Maybe I'll try to get an interview with his school councillor, too." 

"But shouldn't I be there for that. Jim, I want to be a part of this case, it's important to me." 

"And you will be, but all I'll be doing in the morning is checking facts. You don't need to be there for that, but I will absolutely need you when we talk to Ellen Lincoln and her son." 

"I know, you're right, I just...I don't want to be excluded from this, okay?" 

"Wouldn't dream of it, Chief. Now come on, get in the truck and I'll take you to dinner, anything you want, my treat." 

"Really? Cool. Shanita was telling me about this new macrobiotic place that just opened up just off campus. She said they did a mean mung bean fricassee." 

At Jim's horrified look, Blair laughed victoriously. "Man, that was too easy." 

"Punk. Just for that I should take you to Greasy Merv's Burger Bar." 

Still snickering, Blair bumped against Jim. "Thai. I want Thai. The Lotus Blossom. I'm in the mood for something hot and spicy." 

"Oh really? Then maybe we should skip dinner and head on home for an early night." 

"Jim! I'm not that kind of boy." 

"Yes you are." 

"Okay, yes I am, but sadly I'm also hungry." 

"You know, The Lotus Blossom does do takeout." 

"So what are we waiting for? Home, James, and don't spare the horses." 

* * *

It was coming. He could hear it, lumbering through the rooms, kicking open doors and tossing aside furniture, the low, menacing growl chilling him to the bone. 

He had to get away, had to hide so that it could never find him. He had always known it was real. Mommy said it wasn't. She said that it was something controlling parents made up to destroy their children's confidence, to keep them meek and compliant. But now here it was, coming for him. He knew what the Bogeyman would do if it caught him. He knew it would chop him into tiny little pieces and stew him in a pot. It would grind his bones and mince up his heart. It would pull out his hair and poke needles into his fingers and toes. It was bad. Bad, bad, BAD. He had to get away, but it was coming, and it was so close, now. It was going to find him. 

He crawled out of his hiding place under the table, creeping across the floor to the kitchen door. But oh, it had heard him! It had stopped, and now it was coming this way. How, how had it heard him? He was being so quiet, as quiet as a mouse. But it was the _Bogeyman_ ; the Bogeyman know everything. What chance did he have all alone against such a monster? Where was Mommy? 

Maybe she was outside. Once he got the door open he could find her, and then he would be safe. If he could only find her, everything would be good again. Mommy would save him from the Bogeyman. Mommy loved him, she said so all the time. She would never let _anything_ hurt him. Oh, why wouldn't the door open? 

He pulled on the door, twisting the knob frantically, but it was stuck. _He_ was stuck. He turned to the other door, the only thing between him and the Bogeyman, his last barricade. He began to sob, the tears streaming down his face , flying from his eyes as he spun around and around, looking for a place to hide. Looking for a safe place, but there was nothing. Somehow the table that had been his refuge was smaller now, and higher. The Bogeyman was sure to see him if he tried to hide there. 

Whimpering in terror, he turned back to the door, pounding on it and calling for his Mommy. No point in being quiet now, not when it know where he was. His only hope was that Mommy would find him first, but she didn't know he needed her. He shouted louder, throwing back his head and screaming for her, scratching and kicking at the door. 

Quiet. He couldn't hear it anymore. Where was it? Was it gone. He looked over, his breath stilling as he saw the handle begin to turn. His howled in despair, fighting the hands that clutched at him. 

"Blair, Blair, come on, wake up, Baby. It's a nightmare, just a nightmare. You're fine, Chief. No-one's going to hurt you. I'm here, Blair. I'm here. You're safe. 

Blair took a deep, gasping breath, looking around in shock as the panic shuddered out of him. He leaned into Jim, gripping his arms. 

"Oh my god. What...Jim?" 

"You had a nightmare, Chief. You were seriously freaked. Can you remember what it was about?" 

"What? No, I...it was coming after me, and...I...I don't know." 

"It?" 

"I don't _know_ , Jim, okay. I can't...all I remember is being scared and needing to get away." 

"Okay. You're calmer now, right? Your heart sounds better, not jumping about anymore. Think you could get some more sleep?" 

"What time is it?" 

"Just after three." 

"Three? Damn, sorry I woke you." 

"No problem. I'm just glad I was here, Chief. Look, does this have anything to do with the case? Only, you've let yourself get so involved, and..." 

"No, Jim, I don't see how it can be. I mean, it's upsetting of course, a child being hurt, but there's been a lot of bad stuff. Why would this give me nightmares?" 

"I don't know, but..." 

"I'm probably just stressed, Jim. I've got a lot going on with my classes, problems with a couple of students, and then there's my dissertation. I need to hand something solid in soon, or I'm going to get hauled in front of the committee. I'm sure that's all it is, all my responsibilities piling on top of me. That must be what was after me. You know, dreams are usually symbolic. There was never a real person chasing me, he was a manifestation of all the other stuff in my life. I'll be fine, Jim, nothing to worry about. I doubt it will happen again, not now that I know what it was about. We should get back to sleep." 

"You're sure you're okay, Chief?" 

"I'm fine, Jim. Really." 

"Night, then. If you need anything..." 

"You're right there. I know, and thanks. Now sleep." 

Blair lay back down, tugging Jim with him, rolling over and snuggling back into Jim, pulling Jim's arm around his waist and hugging it against his chest. He closed his eyes, unconsciously tightening his grip on Jim's hand, holding on even as sleep claimed him. 

* * *

Jim finished preparing the tray while he waited for the coffee and waffles. One look at Blair's pale face, eyes shadowed and unfocused, and he had decided to forgo rule number twelve, `no food in the bed.' What were a few crumbs compared to easing Blair's dejected slump? 

Last night had been scary. Blair might want to believe that it was stress related, but Jim wasn't convinced. After all, Blair _always_ had a lot going on in school. He was a positive whirlwind of activity; it would take a lot more than a few difficult students and getting hassled by his dissertation committee to slow him down. It was the case, it had to be the case. 

Somehow, though, the nightmare seemed so much more personal. Blair hadn't had a reaction like that since Lash. In fact, his Lash nightmares had been startlingly similar, and that time, he had been kidnapped, drugged and nearly murdered. How could the abuse of a child he had yet to meet compare? It couldn't, and that's what was scaring Jim. Something was going on with Blair. Something bad. Something he wouldn't talk about, or else didn't fully comprehend himself. 

Jim sighed as he buttered waffles. He really wished he hadn't promised Blair he would be involved in this case. At least he had convinced him that he didn't need to be present at the interviews with the Doctors and social workers. Reading about the consequences of abuse was vastly different from hearing it in person. 

Jim just wished there was some way to keep him from the meeting with the mother and child. That was without question going to be harrowing. But there was no way Blair would accept that he should stay away, and in truth, Jim needed him there. He might be able to pick up on physical symptoms of deceit and apprehension, but Blair could read people. He understood them in a way that Jim never would. 

Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. They were in this, and since it seemed that the abuser was still free, Jim wouldn't have it any other way. At heart he was a protector, and there was a child that needed to be protected. Yes, it was hurting Blair, but Blair had always told him that repression was no good. And Jim was sure that Blair was repressing something. Perhaps this would all be for the best after all. Once Blair confronted his fears, then he could get on with his life. God, he really was turning into Blair. And Blair was turning into him. How weird was that? 

Shaking his head ruefully, he poured the coffee, picked up the tray and headed upstairs, already anticipating the happy smile on Blair's face. 

* * *

Okay, that was it. All the grades posted, every shaky student stabilized, classes traded off with other T. A.'s, and his diss committed fobbed off with promises of chapters almost ready for review. He was free and clear for the rest of the day, with limited responsibilities well into next week. He could help Jim with his case until it was solved without distractions. Cool. Grabbing his jacket and backpack he headed for the door, deciding to meet Jim in the car park so they could get right to work. 

He was locking the door behind him when the phone rang. He dithered for a moment, wanting to ignore it, but knowing that the guilt would niggle at him if he did. Sighing, he went back inside, hoping it was nothing critical as he picked up. 

"Blair Sandburg, what can I do for you?" 

There was silence on the other end, but Blair was sure he could hear breathing. If this was one of his students messing around he would _not_ be happy. 

"Hello, who is this? Look, I'm not in the mood for juvenile pranks, so..." 

"You work with the police, don't you. I asked about you, and someone said...is it true?" 

"What? I'm shadowing a detective for research purposes, so yes, I suppose it is. Why, who is this?" 

"I know you went to see Robert Lincoln yesterday, with your cop. Was that a case? Was it because of his son?" 

"How do you know that? Who are you? Look, if you know anything about who hurt Andy Lincoln, you need to..." 

"Was he there? Was Lincoln on the trips?" 

"What trips? What are you talking about?" 

"The fishing trips. Was Lincoln there? Did he..." 

"I don't know anything about any trips. Who _is_ this? What do you know?" 

"I...you have to...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called, I'm sorry. I`m...sorry." 

"No, wait, don't hang up, please, if you can help the investigation..." 

"It's the trips. You have to find out about the trips. To the cabin. I...I'm sorry, I can't...I'm sorry." 

"No, no wait." 

A dial tone was his only reply. 

"Dammit!" 

"Chief?" 

"Jim, I got a call." 

"What is it, what's wrong? Is it your dissertation?" 

"No, nothing like that. He said he knew we'd been to see Robert Lincoln. He knew something, Jim, I know he did. I think he knows who was responsible, but he wouldn't tell me." 

"Who was it, and how did he know what we're doing?" 

"I don't know. He was...I think he was scared, but...I don't know. I don't think he was being deliberately evasive, it was more, he wanted to know what we knew, and, I think he wants to help, but...maybe he's being threatened. He was talking about fishing trips. Asked if Lincoln was on the trips but he never said why it was relevant." 

"Fishing trips? I don't know, I guess that would be a good way to get the kid alone. There's nothing in the reports about anything like that, but we could make the suggestion to Ellen Lincoln, see how she reacts." 

"Do you think it's important?" 

"I don't know, it might be, but I don't like that someone knows what we're doing. And why call you instead of me?" 

"One ring. Jim, there was only one ring." 

"So?" 

"When I get a call from outside the phone has a double ring, but this was a single tone. That means it was an internal call." 

"So he's here, in the college? He's watching you?" 

"I don't know, I mean, he sounded like he knew me, or at least who I was." 

"Did the voice sound familiar?" 

"No, and I haven't told anyone what we were working on, so even if he knows me, how would he know that?" 

"The car. Dammit, I knew I should have checked it out." 

"What car?" 

"Yesterday, after the interview with Lincoln. There was a tan civic parked up the road with a guy sitting in it." 

"So? He was probably just waiting for someone." 

"That's what I thought, but I'm sure I saw the same car pass by as we arrived, so maybe it was us he was waiting for. He saw us go in, and waited for us to come out." 

"Why?" 

"I have no idea. Perhaps he was coming to visit Lincoln, but didn't want us to know, so he held back until we were gone." 

"That's creepy. I'm really not liking this. Jim, did you get the registration?" 

"No. I should have. I am such an idiot. I know better than this. I should have _checked_." 

"But you _saw_ it, right?" 

"Sure, but so what? I don't remember it." 

"If you saw it, then the information is there. We just have to separate it out from all the other input you were getting at the time." 

"How?" 

"Concentrate your memory, focus on the one sense you want activated." 

"My sight." 

"Exactly. Let's get started." 

"What now? But we have the interview, we can do it tonight." 

"Why waste time? If we do it now we'll have a name and address by the time we're back at the station. Besides, we don't meet with Ellen Lincoln `till three, and even allowing for traffic it shouldn't take more than forty-five minutes to get there, that leaves us an hour fifteen to get the information we need." 

"I thought we were going to go eat." 

"We can pick up a sandwich on the way, now stop whining and sit down on that couch. Come on, Jim, you know what to do. Close your eyes, breathe deeply and concentrate. Nothing exists but that car." 

In twenty minutes, the registration was already called in, and Jim was rubbing his hands gleefully at the thought of food. Blair wasn't that surprised, thinking that a Jim threatened with losing out on lunch performed very well indeed. Maybe he should exploit Jim's desire for artery hardening snacks more often to get him motivated during his senses testing. He laughed as he followed Jim from the room. Now, there was a thought, doughnuts and french fries as a scientific tool. 

* * *

Jim leaned back, studying Ellen Lincoln. It was clear that recent events had taken their toll. She was pale, purple smudges under her eyes, her fine blond hair dull and lifeless. 

She had answered the door herself, leading them into a elegant sitting room, curling into a large armchair, slightly turned away from the settee on which Jim and Blair had settled. 

So far, she had not said a word. 

Jim looked around for Andy, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Andy?" 

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke hesitantly, seeming to be constantly on the verge of tears. "He's watching cartoons in the den. I thought it would be best if we spoke before you saw him. He's...he isn't...this is hard for him." 

"Of course, I understand that, but I will want to talk with him. I'll do everything I can not to upset him." 

She nodded, then looked away. "He won't tell you anything. He never says anything at all anymore, at least not to me." 

Blair sat forward with a frown. "Never? Is he getting any help?" 

"Of course he's getting help. One of my Father's oldest friends is a child psychologist. Doctor Gardner Sinclair. He's one of the best in his field, and he's known Andy since he was born. As soon as he knew what had happened, he offered to work with him. He's a wonderful man, we're lucky to have him. He says that Andy will talk once he feels secure, and that we just have to give him time. He's been through so much, and he's such a little boy." 

She pressed her fist against her mouth, not quite able to stifle a sob. "I'm sorry, I...I didn't mean to...it's not your fault, and I really am grateful to you for your help. Martha has a lot of faith in you. 

Blair smiled gently. "It's all right, you're entitled to get upset, it's been hard for you, too, after all." 

"Thank-you." 

Blair sat back, offering silent support as Jim took control. 

"Mrs. Lincoln..." 

"Please, call me Ellen." 

"Right, Ellen." Jim hesitated, painfully aware of the young woman's emotional fragility. He hated this type of confrontation. Give him scum sucking drug dealers and lowlife pimps and he was in his element, but damsels in distress? So not his thing. 

"Ellen, I'll keep this as short as possible. I just want to clarify a few points. Was it you who first noticed a change in Andy's behaviour?" 

"Yes. He started getting very clingy, started wetting the bed, got nervous around people. He seemed so anxious all the time. He was never like that before. He was always such a happy, outgoing child." 

"You say he was clingy, was that only with you?" 

"Mostly, yes." 

"Not his Father?" 

She tensed at the mention of her husband, drawing herself in. "His Father was abusing him, he would hardly cling to him." 

"So he seemed afraid of his Father?" 

A small frown creased her brow. "Well, no, not _afraid_ exactly." 

"Then what? Did he avoid his Father, pull away from his touch." 

"No, but Uncle Gard...Doctor Sinclair, explained that often a child blames himself for the abuse, so rather than pull away from the abuser, he does his best to please him." 

"Is that what Andy was doing? Trying to please his Father?" 

"Look, why are you asking these questions. We know what happened, all you need to do is prove it so that Robert can never hurt Andy again." 

"I can assure you, Mrs. Lincoln...Ellen, my primary concern is ensuring Andy's safety. There is one thing that bothers me; your absolute certainty that your husband is guilty. I was trying to find some reason for that, and Andy reacting negatively to him would be telling." 

"Oh, believe me, it wasn't easy to accept that the man I married would do such a terrible thing, but I have no choice. Andy was abused, and the only person with access to do so was Robert. Besides, My father's helped me to see a few things about him since all this happened." 

"Such as?" 

"That he was always a little selfish. Daddy offered him a marvellous job, but he wouldn't even consider it, and we could have lived here until we were able to save enough money for the kind of home I've always wanted. But Robert didn't care about my wishes, he just wanted to get his own way. He wouldn't even let Daddy pay for the lovely Kindergarten I wanted to send Andy to, he had to go to the local public school with almost no facilities." 

"I have to say, I understand him wanting to provide for his own family." 

"But what would it hurt to accept a little help from my parents? Surely a nice home and good schools isn't too much to ask." 

"Was Andy not happy at school?" 

"I suppose he liked it well enough, but he's only a baby, how could he understand what he was missing out on. At the private school, he would have been taught music, drawing, interpretative dance, art, and all sorts of wonderful things he could never get from that place he was at." 

Interpretative dance. God. "So did Robert spend any time with Andy one-on-one, maybe camping, or some other father/ son activity?" 

Ellen snorted. "Oh no, he couldn't possibly take time away from work to spend time with his only child. You know, it's funny, Daddy thought just that, that Robert and Andy should spend some time together, bonding. He offered to let Robert use the cabin for a few days before Andy started school, and this time, Robert accepted. It was all arranged, Andy was so excited. Actually, that was the last time I remember him being truly happy, but then Robert said he had to cancel. Something came up at work that only he could sort out, apparently. So the trip was off." 

"Andy must have been disappointed." 

"Yes, he was, but Daddy stepped in and made sure he didn't miss out." 

"So your father took him away? Just the two of them?" 

"Yes. He has a cabin in the mountains. It has a lake with a dock and a small boat. It's lovely up there." 

"You didn't decide to go in place of your husband?" 

"Oh no, it's boys only at the cabin, Detective Ellison." 

"I see. I don't remember seeing this trip mentioned in the reports." 

"Well, it wasn't relevant." 

"Mrs. Lincoln, you just said yourself that the main evidence against your husband is that no-one else had the opportunity, but that's not true, is it?" 

"What do you mean? It was just Daddy and Andy. The cabin is isolated, and there's no-one else around. Daddy doesn't keep any staff up there, just the man who comes and keeps the lake clear of weeds, and the cleaning lady, but they both live locally, and they stay away when there's anyone in residence." 

Jim stared at the woman, then turned to Blair, who was equally wide eyed. He focused his senses on her. No increased heart beat, respiration normal, nothing. Could she really not understand the implications of what she had told them? And what did the mystery phone caller know about this trip? Realising that she would never acknowledge the possibility of her father's involvement, Jim tried a new tack. 

"I don't think we can discount the possibility of hikers, or perhaps someone living rough. Have there been any other trips? 

"Just one. When Andy started to get sick, Daddy thought that it might help if he got away from everything, cheer him up." 

"I see. Did either you or your husband go along this time." 

"No, Daddy..." 

"Ellen, dear, have you offered the officers a drink?" 

"Oh, no, I haven't. I'm so sorry, how rude of me, may I get you anything? Coffee, or..." 

"No, that's fine" Jim and Blair stood, turning to the woman who stood in the doorway. Her resemblance to Ellen Lincoln was striking, her blond hair stylishly tied in a French knot. She looked to be in her late forties, and had once been beautiful; she still was. 

She walked in, indicating that they should sit. "Hello, detective Ellison, isn't it, and Mr. Sandburg?" She reached out an elegant hand. "Grace Lawler, Ellen's Mother. Martha Jackson speaks highly of you." 

Jim took her hand, feeling that he should be kissing it instead; she was that sort of woman. 

"Mrs. Lawler, thank-you for taking the time to see us." 

"Not at all. We are all distraught over what has happened to poor little Andrew. Naturally, we shall assist you in any way possible. However, I do not consider questions about my husband appropriate. Perhaps it would be better for you to consider a new line of questioning." 

Jim looked at her closely. Outwardly, she was calm and controlled, but her racing pulse told a different story. He wondered how long she had been outside, how long she had been listening, and why she felt it necessary to interrupt at that particular point. What was she afraid they would discover? 

"Mrs. Lawler..." 

"Mom, they were just asking about the trips to the cabin. They thought that there could be someone living out in the woods who hurt Andy. If that's true, then maybe Robert..." 

"Ellen, you know perfectly well that your father would never allow any harm to come to Andrew. I realize that it is hard for you to accept that you married a monster, but you must do so. Robert is guilty, as we all know. There is no alternative." 

Ellen Lincoln was instantly acquiescent, dropping her head submissively. 

Jim frowned at her passive acceptance of her mother's words, surprised at how easily influenced she seemed to be. Clearly, her mother had a great deal of influence over her opinions. 

"Is your husband available to answer a few questions, Mrs. Lawler?" 

"I'm afraid not, detective. He'll be in council meeting for most of the afternoon." 

"I see. In that case, I'd like to see Andy now, please." 

"Of course. I'll go get him." 

"Actually, it might be better if we go to him. He'll be more relaxed in the den, more responsive." 

"Whatever you think best. You'll be...gentle, won't you? My son is..." 

"Don't worry. Mrs. Lincoln, Blair's great with kids, right, Blair?" 

"Absolutely, we'll just be chatting, and if he gets upset, then we'll stop. I promise you, Ellen, Andy's well-being is absolutely our first priority." 

* * *

They found Andy in the den, nestled into a pile of cushions like a wounded bird. His only acknowledgement of their presence was the tightening of his shoulders and the fixed stare at the television screen. Blair hesitated, but at a nod from Jim he settled cross legged on the floor next to the boy. 

He said nothing at first, watching the cartoons, paying no attention to Andy. He didn't miss the little side glances as Andy gradually shifted a little so that he could keep a wary eye on Blair. Finally, Blair saw what he had been waiting for, acceptance. Andy relaxed, seemingly deciding that Blair was not a threat. 

"Hey, this is my favourite cartoon. I love the Teen Titans." 

There was no answer, but then, Blair didn't expect there to be. At least Andy hadn't pulled away, and he did seem to be listening. 

"When I was seven, I wanted to be Superboy _so_ bad. I remember we saw a shooting star, my Mom and I, and she said if I wished on it my wish would come true. Guess what I wished?" 

Was that a smile? Blair could have sworn it was. 

"That's right, I wished to be Superboy, and I knew that my wish had come true because my mother had told me it would. So, I went outside into the garden and climbed up into a neighbours tree, right to the very top. Then I launched myself into the air, absolutely sure I could fly. I still believed it would work, right up until the moment I crashed through the branches and hit the ground. Everyone thought I cried so hard because of my broken arm, and part of it was that; it really hurt. But mostly, I was crying because my mom had made me a promise, and it hadn't happened. She was wrong. That hurt way more than my arm." 

Oh yes, Andy was definitely paying attention now. His wide eyes stared at Blair, waiting. 

"You know, I often wonder why it mattered so much back then, being Superboy. Obviously, there were the super powers, who wouldn't want them, but I think it was more than that. I think it was Superman. Having Superman as a dad. You see, I never knew who my real dad was. Oh, my mom was terrific, the best mom ever, but there was one thing she could never be; she could never be a dad. I couldn't even tell her I wanted one, because then she'd be upset. So I claimed Superman. After all, dad's look out for you, save you from the monsters, and who would be better at that than the man who regularly saved the whole world?" 

He paused a moment, looking at Andy. He had a connection, but now he was going to have to risk upsetting Andy. He hated it, but it was the only way they were going to find out anything. "I guess you must miss your dad, huh Andy?" 

Andy's eyes grew impossibly wider and for a moment he seemed not to even breathe. Then he gave the tiniest, barely there nod. 

Blair ignored the shocked gasp from Ellen Lincoln, keeping his attention focused on Andy. 

"Yeah, it must be rough not being able to see him, or talk to him." 

Another nod, more definite this time. 

"Your mom told me that the two of you planned a trip away to the mountains, is that right?" 

His nod this time was accompanied by a small frown. 

"You must have been sad when he couldn't go after all, but hey, your grandpa took you instead, didn't he?" 

Blair didn't need Jim's heightened senses to see Andy's distress. He was pressed back into the cushions, his small hands clenching and unclenching fitfully, his lips quivered as his mouth moved, trying to form words. Blair leaned forward, offering support and understanding, giving Andy time to get out whatever he needed to say. 

"I think you've upset Andy quite enough. This interview is over." 

"Mrs. Lawler!" 

Jim reached out to restrain the older woman, but it was too late. Andy had pulled away, staring once again at his cartoon. The connection was gone. 

Blair stood, shrugging at Jim. "I don't think there's much point going on today. Maybe we can try again some other time." 

"I really don't know what it is you expect. I'm sure my daughter explained to you that Andrew does not speak. I see no reason to continue upsetting the child when we all know what occurred. Ellen, you had better see to your son while I see these gentlemen out." 

Grace Lawler held the door, her posture rigid, screaming disapproval. Jim paused , turning to look her in the eye. 

"I'll be needing to speak to your husband about that trip, Mrs. Lawler." 

She pursed her lips, displeasure evident . "If you must, Detective. I'll see that he calls you and sets up an appointment." 

* * *

Jim strode to the truck, slamming the door and tapping the wheel impatiently. Blair settled warily beside him. 

"Well, that was...interesting." 

Jim snorted angrily, viciously yanking the wheel and speeding away from the house. 

"He was going o say something. Andy. I'm sure he was. If only Grace Lawler hadn't interrupted." 

Jim snorted again. "Oh, that was no accident. The woman's heart rate rocketed when you mentioned that damn trip. Andy _was_ going to tell you something, and she knew it. She stopped him deliberately." 

"You think she's involved?" 

"Not in the actual abuse. Andy would have reacted more strongly to her presence if she was, but she knows what happened, and she's covering." 

"For her husband?" 

"What do you think?" 

"It has to be, doesn't it? Something bad happened on that trip. Something really bad, and good old Councillor Lawler is in it up to his neck." 

"Bastard. No wonder he was so keen to persuade his daughter that her husband was the guilty one. It gets him everything he wants. He`s in the clear and he gets unrestricted access to Andy. Evil scum sucking son of a bitch." 

"Oh god, Robert Lincoln. He's innocent. And now when Andy needs him most, he's being kept from him. And since children are inherently egocentric, Andy will think it's all his fault. His fault he was hurt and his fault his father's been removed from his life. Man, this sucks. Dammit, how could they have missed this?" 

"C'mon, Blair, you've been around the station enough to know how it works. Once they were convinced that Robert Lincoln was the abuser, all the investigating would have been to prove his guilt. They weren't bad officers, Chief. It's so easy to get fixated on what you believe to be the truth, that you tailor every fact you find to fit that belief. Besides, we don't know what information they were given, or how it was presented to them. You heard what Ellen Lincoln said; `the trip wasn't relevant'. It's possible she never even mentioned it, or perhaps Lawler or his wife brought it up but made it seem like a family holiday." 

"Or maybe the investigating officers didn't want to investigate a pillar of the community like Lawler. Isn't he friendly with the Mayor?" 

"Yup, and plays golf with the Chief of Police." 

"Oh joy. Simon's not going to be happy with us, is he?" 

"No, and not just because of the Chief. Martha wanted us to help her friend, and this is going to destroy Ellen Lincoln." 

"I know. Not just her father, but her mother too. Jim, he was right, wasn't he?" 

"Who?" 

"The man who called me. He was right about the trip." 

"He was. Makes you wonder what else he knows, doesn't it?" 

"Are we going back to the station now? The result of the trace should be in, so we could go find him." 

"Don't get your hopes up, Chief. We don't know for sure that the man in the car had anything to do with this case. He could have been waiting for his girlfriend, his mother, anything." 

"But we are going to check, right?" 

"Yes, we are, but not yet." 

"So where are we going? 

"Town Hall. I'm sure Councillor Lawler will be happy to help the police with their inquiries." 

"You think?" 

"Oh, I'm sure he will be. Didn't I hear that he claimed to be Cascades leading supporter of law and Order? How would it look if he refused to see the officers who were diligently working to protect his only grandson?" 

"Very bad P.R. You're right, he will have to see us. Grace Lawler will not be happy with you." 

"I'll just have to learn to live with her disappointment. Did she really think I'd give her the chance to call her husband and give him time to prepare a story for us? As if. I want to catch him on the hop, shake him up a little and see what he drops." 

"You think he'll tell us anything?" 

"No, but I'll know when I hit his buttons, so we'll have a good idea where to go next." 

"Smart thinking, Batman." 

"Not Superman?" 

"Are you kidding? Invulnerable and all powerful he may be, but a thinker Superman ain't." 

"Right. You know, I can't believe how much you got from that cartoon. Who knew Teen Titans were so deep." 

"Are you kidding? I can see I'm going to have to educate you in the dark world of comicverse. Subtext, Jim, it's all about the subtext." 

* * *

Blair gasped with shock as Howard Lawler stood in the doorway. This was what had been missing when he first saw Robert Lincoln; recognition. He _knew_ this man. In spite of the fact that he was sure they had never met, he _knew_ him. 

He backed away, wanting to get as far away from the man as possible, but the room was so small, he just couldn't find enough space to breathe. The claustrophobia was almost overwhelming, tightening his chest and turning his legs to jelly. He found himself wishing there was at least a table or some chairs he could hide behind, but there was nothing. Just them and Howard Lawler. He moved closer to Jim, hoping that no one would notice that he was using his friend as a shield. 

Jim gave him a curious look, then moved around so that he was blocking him from Lawler's view. Blair felt calmer as the fear started to fade, and for the first time, he really looked at Lawler. The man was big, no, he was huge. At tall as Simon, but much broader, and solid. He stood, feet braced apart, hands in pockets, his pose casual yet commanding. His thick iron grey hair was swept back, strong, blunt features arrogant. Blair shivered, intimidated. 

Jim stepped forward, offering his hand. "Good of you to see us at such short notice, Councillor." 

"Of course, Detective. You people do a marvellous job, and I believe it's the duty of all good citizens to render assistance whenever possible. However, I am a very busy man, so perhaps it would be better if we arranged an appointment for a more convenient time." 

Blair didn't need to see Jim's face to know what he was thinking; politicians! And boy, was Howard Lawler a politician down to the bone. 

Jim nodded, But Lawler's smirk of victory rapidly became a scowl, as Jim stood his ground. "That's very good of you, Councillor, and of course, I may need to arrange a longer interview. Now, if you could just clear up a few inconsistencies." 

"Very well, Detective. Ask your questions, but make it short." 

"I'd like to know more about the trip you and Andy made to your cabin, Councillor Lawler." 

"That's of no relevance to this case." 

"I disagree. The change in Andy's behaviour began at approximately the same time. The obvious conclusion would be that something occurred to upset the boy on your trip." 

"It is the wrong conclusion. Nothing happened on that trip other than a little fishing and hiking. I assume Lincoln began to abuse Andrew shortly after our return, perhaps through jealousy of the child's relationship with me, but that is for you to discover." 

"You're very sure of his father's guilt." 

"Of course. I was never happy about the marriage. That man was clearly not good enough for Ellen, but she loved him, so I held my tongue. The defects of character were clear to me, at lest, even if my infatuated daughter could not see them." 

"I see. So you weren't surprised at his abuse of Andy?" 

"I was, naturally, shocked as one always is by something so barbaric. I admit, I had anticipated some failure on his part, but I had assumed that this would take the form of involvement with females of low moral fibre." 

"I have to say, Councillor, that wasn't the impression I received when I spoke with your son-in-law yesterday." 

"I don't deny that Lincoln is outwardly agreeable. On further acquaintance one can see that this is a faade." 

"All the same, I'm not convinced that Lincoln abused his son." 

"Neither the other officers nor the assigned case worker had any doubts about his guilt." 

"I'm not the other officers, and I have a great many doubts. Now about the trip." 

"As I have already stated, the trip is of no importance. I refuse to waste both my time and yours on irrelevancies. Now, if you have no questions germane to this investigation, I have a meeting to attend." 

"Fine, that will be all for now, but I may need to see you again at a later date. Blair?" 

Jim ushered Blair from the room, grabbing his arm and hurrying him down the hall. 

"Hey, come on, Jim, quit dragging me around like a shopping cart." 

"Sorry. I had to get out of there. Man, that guy's annoying." 

"Yeah, total creep. I don't know what it was about him, but he was really freaking me out." 

"I noticed. Don't think _he_ did though, too busy being superior." 

"Did he seriously think you'd take his word that the trip was unrelated and just drop it?" 

"Probably. He strikes me as the kind of man who's used to getting his own way. Must have really pissed him off when I wouldn't let it go." 

"If it did, he didn't show it." 

"He wasn't showing much of anything, but believe me, he was feeling it." 

"Yeah? What did you get?" 

"His heart rate rocketed when I asked about the trip. He may have looked calm, but he was all over the place." 

"Damn. No wonder he was so keen to shift the focus onto Robert Lincoln. It really was him, then?" 

"No, it was the one armed man." 

"Jim." 

"Yeah, it was him, or he's covering for someone else." 

"So what happens now?" 

"Ideally, we get a search warrant for this cabin, but I can't see that happening on what we've got so far." 

"But surely the fact that Lawler was alone with Andy and had unrestricted access should be grounds for suspicion." 

"It's not enough, Chief, not when we're dealing with a man like Lawler. The resources he has are impressive. We do anything even slightly questionable, his lawyers will be all over us." 

"So what do we do?" 

"We go get that address, track down Honda Civic man and hope he _is_ our mystery caller and that he knows something that can help us." 

"Well alright then, let's go." 

* * *

Jim peered through the windows into the dark house, but it was pointless. The house was quiet and clearly empty. He walked back to the truck, shrugging at Blair. 

"Nobody home, I guess." 

"Well, it is Friday night, so he maybe he went out. That is the car you saw, right?" 

Jim walked to the small car parked neatly at the kerb looking inside, hoping to spot something that would identify it's owner, but there was nothing. The car as neat as the house. 

"Yes, this is it. Are you sure the name doesn't ring any bells?" 

"Nope. As far as I know I've never met any Daniel Morgan's. I used to date a Cynthia Morgan, but I was only twelve and it was in Idaho." 

"Well, unless she's had a sex change and decided to stalk you, I don't think she's connected." 

"She was a bit of a tomboy. She was always giving me Chinese burns and punching my arm, and she used to hide slugs in my shoes." 

"And you dated this girl?" 

"I had no choice. She would have beaten me up if I refused." 

"Wuss." 

"What could I do? She was a big girl. Big boned her mother used to say, but personally I think her size had more to do with the fact that she'd bully all the smaller kids into handing over their snacks at recess. Besides. I hadn't hit my growth spurt yet." 

"Yet?" 

"Will you quit making fun of my height." 

"What height? Get yourself some height and I'll happily make fun of it." 

"If all you're going to do is abuse the little guy, we might as well leave." 

"Yeah, no way of telling when this Morgan character will be home. We can come back first thing in the morning. Wake him up. People are more likely to spill secrets if they're still half asleep." 

"Devious." 

"I prefer astute. Are you going to be free tomorrow? No classes?" 

"Not with it being Saturday, no." 

"Oh, right. I forgot tomorrow was Saturday. I was going to check out that new hardware store. I heard from Kevin in 2B that they have an awesome power tools section. I guess I'll have to give it a miss. Damn, I was looking forward to that." 

"Jim, they opened up two weeks ago. I seriously doubt they'll go under before you get your chance to drool over spring loaded nail guns." 

"I don't have any nail guns." 

"Why would you need one?" 

"To nail things." 

"Of course, how silly of me, you never know when you might need to nail something down." 

Jim laughed, climbing into the truck. "Careful, shortstuff, or I might decide to nail _you_ down, stop you getting into trouble." 

"Ha, as if. It's probably there in your rules somewhere, `no nailing into polished wood floors." 

"Good point. O could always mount you on a plinth." 

"Is it scary that that turns me on." 

"Kinky, yes. Scary, no. Pretty much par for the course for you." 

"Blair pulled his door closed, snickering. So how about we go home and indulge my many kinks?" 

"Works for me. Did I mention they had a special on chocolate treacle at the store? I got three bottles." 

"The squeezy bottles with the long nozzle?" 

"What else." 

"You know Jim, for a repressed, anal retentive hard ass, you have a truly twisted mind." 

Jim chuckled. "I do my best, Chief, I do my best." 

* * *

It was coming. The Bogeyman was coming and there was nowhere to hide. It was going to get him. He knew it was, because there was _nowhere_ to hide. 

He had to find Mommy, but he thought maybe she was outside and he was _inside_. He was stuck here in the house alone with _it_ and he couldn't get out because the door was stuck. He had pulled and pulled, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get it to open. 

It was coming closer, pounding on the walls, kicking open all the doors to all the rooms and searching everywhere. It was breaking the furniture and pulling down the curtains, breaking the cupboards and tearing the legs off the tables so that he would have no place left to hide. This was the last room, the last safe place, but it wouldn't be safe for long. 

It was so close, he could hear it in the next room now, chopping the floorboards into splinters. The door, he had to get the door open and find Mommy, or he would be next. He would be torn into tiny little pieces, mashed into paste for it to spread on it's toast. 

He turned back to the door, sobbing, so scared. Turning and turning the handle, jumping up and down in agitation. It was at the door! Any second now he would be found. Howling with frustration he banged on the door, kicking at it, throwing himself against it. 

He was falling, dropping through the air to land with a breath stealing thud as the door fell away from him. He was out! Oh god, he was out. Now all he had to do was find Mommy and he'd be safe. Mommy would never let the Bogeyman hurt him, even if she didn't really believe in it, she would still keep him safe. She was his Mommy, mommies took care of their little boys and she would take care of him. If only he could find her. 

The trees were so thick, and close together. He wanted to run and run and get as far away from the Bogeyman as possible, but the roots kept tripping him, and the branches caught him and tangled him up so he couldn't get away. And he was so tired. Everything felt heavy. He felt like he was trying to run through oatmeal. 

There she was. He could see her up ahead. She was wearing her red flowery caftan and he could see it moving through the bushes just ahead of him. He had to run faster, so he could catch her. He tried to call out for her, wanted to shout out her name, but his voice was so small, barely a whisper. His shouts caught in his throat, choking him and he started to cry, harsh, rasping sobs that hurt his chest. 

There she was again, he nearly had her that time, but she faded away from him, and now he could hear the Bogeyman crashing after him. The trees were no protection from it, because he would just uproot and throw them aside. He had to reach Mommy before it caught up to him. 

There, there she was, right in front of him. All he had to do was reach out and grab her. He leaned forward, hands grasping, just catching her dress, but he couldn't hold on. The fine fabric slipped through his fingers as the huge hand seized his shoulder and lifted him away. 

Blair woke violently, his legs still pumping, propelling him from the bed and nearly tumbling him down the stairs. Jim leaped after him, catching him and holding him close. Rubbing his back and soothing his frightened whimpering. 

"Blair? Come on, Baby, calm down. Your safe, now. Nothing here is going to hurt you Chief. Your safe." 

"Jim?" 

"Yes, I'm here. You're safe." 

"Oh god, Jim, it had me. I couldn't get away and it _had_ me. I was...oh god." 

"but you're safe now. It's gone and I won't let anything hurt you. You know I'll always take care of you. You're _safe_." 

"Safe. Right. Safe." 

"It was just a dream. There's nothing here to hurt you." 

"Right. A dream. It was just a dream and I'm safe. You're here, so nothing can hurt me." 

"That's it Blair, all over now. Here come on, back into bed before you get a chill. It's freezing here on the floor and you're already shaking." 

"I'm cold." 

"You'll be fine once we're back in bed. I'll keep you warm." 

"Yes, you always do. It's like sleeping next to a furnace." 

Jim laughed, easing Blair off the floor and into the bed, climbing in next to him and wrapping around him, rubbing his arms and stroking his hair. 

"Chief?" 

"Hmn?" 

"This isn't just stress." 

Blair was so still that Jim thought he had fallen asleep, but then he sighed. 

"No, it's not stress. I don't know what it is, but it's not stress." 

"Chief..." 

"I know. I need to find out what's causing this, and I promise, I will, but not yet. This case, Jim, it's...I can't be distracted now. I swear, once it's over I'll go see Christina Hanson. You remember her, don't you? You met her at that faculty do last Thanksgiving." 

"I think so. Psychology professor, right?" 

"That's it. She doesn't do a lot of clinical work anymore, but she does take the occasional patient and I'm sure she'd see me if I explained the problem. She's done a lot of work on regression techniques, and her thesis subject was dream analysis, so I know she can help me. Besides, I trust her." 

"Well, that's what matters." 

"It is. Jim?" 

"Yes?" 

"Will you come with me? You know, for the therapy. I just, I trust Christina, but I trust you more." 

Jim felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with being wrapped in a comforter. 

"Of course I'll come with you if that's what you want." 

"It is. Thank you Jim." 

Reassured, Blair dropped into sleep, but Jim lay awake, listening to Blair's even breathing, watching over him, protecting him from the monsters, even if they were only in his mind. 

* * *

Surprised, Jim looked down at the smiling face of the petite, heavily pregnant blonde who opened the door to them. Well, this wasn't Daniel Morgan. 

"Ma'am, We're looking for a Daniel Morgan." 

"You're in luck, I happen to have one. And you are?" 

"Oh, right." Flustered, Jim fished out his badge. "Detective Ellison, Ma'am. Cascade P.D." 

The smile disappeared. "Oh. You'd better come in." She stepped back, leading them into a bright homey sitting room. "I'm Phedre Morgan; I know, unusual name. Daniel Morgan is my husband. I think he's been half expecting someone to come ever since...but I don't know if he'll talk to you. He's still so...look, could you wait here while I go and talk to him? I think he needs to tell you everything but it's hard for him. If he agrees, just...be careful, okay? He's...breakable." 

Jim looked to Blair, eyebrows raised. "Well, what did you make of that?" 

"I don't know, but if this guy's been expecting us, then he must be the one who made the call. She seems nice, huh?" 

"Yeah, she does, and she apparently knows what he knows, which would be odd if he were involved." 

"So maybe he's not. Maybe what we have here is your original innocent bystander." 

"I think we're about to find out. They're coming." 

Phedre entered, leading a slender young man, her hand clutched tightly in his. His fine angular features were blank, but the paleness and barely perceptible tremor told Jim all he needed to know. This man was scared. Jim frowned, looking at him closely. There was something about him, something familiar, but Jim couldn't quite put his finger on it. Then Blair bounced forward, breaking into his train of thought. "Wait, I know you. I've seen you in the T.A.'s lounge. You're in one of the sciences. Physics, or..." 

"Bio-chemistry." 

"Right, Bio-chemistry. That's how you knew who I was. It _was_ you that called me, wasn't it?" 

"Yes. It wasn't hard to get your name once I started to ask around. Seems like everyone on campus knows who you are." 

Jim stepped forward. "Mr. Morgan, When you called Mr. Sandburg, you mentioned the `trips'. What can you tell us about them?" 

"Oh god. I need to sit down for this." 

He settled onto the love seat, his wife close by his side, Jim and Blair on the matching lounge chairs opposite. 

"You weren't expecting it to be me, were you, Mr. Sandburg?" 

"It's Blair, and no, I wasn't. I've seen you around, but I don't think I ever knew you're name." 

"Then how did you find me?" 

Blair looked to Jim. 

I noticed you outside Robert Lincoln's house. Ran a check on your vehicle registration." 

"Oh. I didn't realise you'd seen me." 

"Why were you there? Were you following Blair?" 

He looked shocked. "No, why would I do that? I was...I've been driving by. A lot. Trying to get up the courage to go and talk to Robert Lincoln, but then I saw you both going in, and I didn't know what was going on. If maybe he was involved after all. That's why I called Blair. To know if he was one of them." 

Jim and Blair shared a baffled look. What the hell was going on here? 

Clearly their confusion showed, as Phedre leaned in to her husband, gently taking his hand. 

"Daniel, I think it would help if you told them who you are." 

Jim frowned at him. "You're not Daniel Morgan?" 

"I am now. I wasn't always. Morgan is my wife's name. I took it when we were married, because, well, frankly, I wanted no part of my old life, and that included the name. Lawler. I used to be Daniel Lawler." 

Jim shot a shocked look at Blair. 

"Son of Howard and Grace, brother of Ellen?" 

"Yes." 

"I don't remember reading about you in any of the reports." 

"Oh, they wouldn't talk about me. I'm the black sheep of the family. Besides, I've never even met Ellen's child, or her husband, in fact, I doubt they even know that I exist. I can't see my parents willingly letting anyone know about their one big failure. My parents aren't the kind of people who like to lose." 

"But they lost you. I can see how that would rankle." 

Blair burst in, unable to keep silent at a perceived injustice. "But why would they consider you the black sheep? You're working on your doctorate, right? How can that be a failure?" 

"They don't know about that. I haven't seen or spoken to my parents since I was eighteen, and believe me, back then, I was a disaster. I was...I didn't care. About anything. I took whatever drugs I could get my hands on. I would sleep with anyone who showed the slightest interest, and I never bothered with any kind of protection. It's a miracle I stayed healthy. As soon as I could, I got out of my parents house. I was living on the streets, stealing, begging, turning tricks, hell, I'd do anything. I had no respect for myself or anyone else." 

The more he heard, the more Jim became convinced that here they had another victim. Back when he'd been in vice, his captain had sent him on a seminar on child abuse, supposedly to encourage his sensitive side. Self-destructive behaviour was a typical reaction for victims of prolonged abuse. Lacking self esteem, they would likely go in one of two ways. Harming others, or harming themselves. The only wonder as far as he could see was that Daniel Morgan had apparently pulled himself out of his downward spiral, and made a good life for himself. 

"So what changed?" 

"I met Phedre. She changed everything. We fell in love and...I wanted to live. She saved me." 

He smile at his wife, reaching up to caress her cheek. 

"Mrs. Morgan, are you a counsellor, or..." 

She laughed brightly. "Hardly. I'm a nurse now, but back then, I was as much of a mess as Daniel. We met on the streets, Detective Ellison. My mother was a hooker, my father could have been any one of her john's. I took off when I was fourteen and her pimp started to give me these _looks_ , you know?" 

Jim nodded. He knew. 

"Right, So anyway, I figured if that was going to be my life, at least I was going to decide who and when. I think `Pretty Woman' kinda gave me unrealistic expectations. You'd think I'd know better after watching my mother get screwed over by everyone she met, but hey, even working girls need something to aim for. That was the thing, you see, I never thought I had any options. I thought my mother's life would be my life, and I had to make the best of it, but then I met Daniel, and we talked. About everything. He was the first person who ever really listened to me. Believed in me. With him I saw a way out. I think we saved each other." 

Jim looked at the couple, their hands linked as they smiled into each others eyes. They looked so happy, so at peace. He wished he could just leave, let them be happy together, but that wasn't possible. Andy needed help, and only this man could give it. 

"Daniel, how old were you when your father started abusing you?" 

Jim heard Blair's muttered curse as Daniel Morgan's eyes widened in shock before closing tight with pain, his fists clenched in his lap and his whole body quivered as he tried to get his emotions under control. 

He stayed that way for a long time, his wife's hands wrapped around his as she murmured gently in his ear. Jim turned to Blair, grimacing, worried that he had ruined their chances of getting answers by moving too fast. But then Daniel took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking right into Jim's eyes. 

"Eight. I was eight. It was my birthday and my father took me up to his cabin for a special treat. He promised me a party and oh boy did I get one. Just not the kind with balloons and a clown." 

"A party?" 

"That's what he called it. That's what he always called it. He would say, `party time Daniel. Time for Daddy and Daniel to have some fun'. But it wasn't, at least, not for me. It was never fun for me. " 

"No, it wouldn't be. Was it always at this cabin?" 

"Yes. He never touched me back home, but I would see him looking at me, and know that we would be going away that weekend, and then I'd wake up in that room." 

"There was a particular room?" 

"Yes. I hated that room. There were no windows, just these lights set up everywhere. Not lamps, more like...spotlights. They were so bright, blinding. And there was a bed, big, right in the middle of the room, with mirrors all around it, even on the ceiling, so there was no escape. My father called it the playroom. Ironic, huh?" 

"You say you only remember waking up in this room. Are you sure you were at the cabin?" 

"Yes. I do remember the drive up, and then going in, and then nothing until I woke up on that bed." 

"Do you think you were drugged?" 

"Maybe. It did always feel like I was in a nightmare, or maybe that's just how I remember it. I'm sure we were still at the cabin, though. There simply wasn't anywhere else near enough for him to have taken me." 

"It happened often?" 

"Every three or four weeks. That would be just the two of us, but sometimes...sometimes..." 

He faltered, closing his eyes and turning away. 

"Sometimes?" Jim prompted. 

"Sometimes there would be others. A real party. My father would invite his friends and sometimes there would be other kids too. I don't know who brought them. The other men, I guess." 

Blair squirmed next to him, and Jim reached out with his senses, hearing Blair's rapidly beating heart and smothered gasps. He fully understood Blair's distress since he shared it. This was so much worse than they had suspected. 

"Did you know any of the other men?" 

"I recognised one or two. Mr. Robinson, my School Principal; Doctor Silverstone, my Paediatrician; Doctor Sinclair." 

"Gardner Sinclair?" 

"You know him?" 

"Your sister mentioned that he was treating Andy for trauma." 

Daniel laughed bitterly. "Well, I can guarantee that he'll see to it that Andy never breathes a word of what happened. That's what he did with me. When I was twelve my school called my parents in to express their concern at my deteriorating grades and anti-social behaviour. I'd probably been acting out for some time but being a _good_ school, they decided to be _understanding_. That's what they called it; _understanding_. Mostly I think that they didn't want to upset an important man like my father. In the end they had no choice. Even they couldn't let burning down the library go." 

"You burnt down the library?" 

"Not all the way down. Only one corner of it. The sprinklers caused more damage than I did." 

"Still." 

"Yeah. I actually had quite a good teacher. I think she was genuinely worried about me, and wanted me to get help, but she couldn't do anything without the backing of the Principal, and of course, he would never give it as he knew perfectly well what was wrong with me and would never risk having me tell someone what was going on." 

"But after the library incident he was overruled?" 

"Yes. He couldn't put that down to a the prank of a spoilt child. Not that it made any difference. All the school counsellor insisted on was that I got some sort of therapy, so up stepped good old Uncle Gard, offering his services as a concerned friend. Talk about keeping it all in the family. Robinson to keep me quiet at school; Sinclair to give the illusion of caring and Silverstone to treat any mystery illnesses or unexplainable injuries." 

"I'm surprised your father didn't get your sister to send Andy to Sinclair. If she had, no-one would ever have found out." 

"Oh, I'm sure he would have, except the good doctor had a stroke last year and is basically a vegetable." 

"You went to see him, didn't you?" 

"Yes. Oh, don't worry, I didn't hurt him. Not physically, anyway." 

"What did you do?" 

"He can't move, or speak, but his mind is still there, still functioning. They were stimulating him by reading to him, playing him music, talking to him. One of his nurses is a friend of ours. She trained with Phedre, so we talked to her. Told her what he was, what he had done. She believed us and passed on the information, so now no-one goes near him except to feed and clean him. His wife is dead and his children live out of state, so he gets no visitors. He gets no sort of social interaction at all. He never leaves his room. His life is hell, and I made sure he knows exactly why. Do you have a problem with that, Detective?" 

"None whatsoever." 

"Now do you see why I needed to know if Robert Lincoln was involved?" 

"Of course. He isn't. He was supposed to be the one to take Andy on the trip but something came up at work, and I strongly suspect that your father arranged for it to go that way." 

"That sounds like him. Make himself look good and his rival look bad." 

"Rival?" 

"Oh yes. He would consider any man who married Ellen to be a rival." 

"Did he ever..." 

"No, he never touched Ellen. Not like that. She was his little princess. His precious unspoiled doll. And to her he was this godlike being who fulfilled her every desire. Who gave her everything she wanted. I'm not surprised that she wouldn't listen when I tried to warn her about him." 

"You warned her? When?" 

"After Andy was born." 

"I thought you'd had no contact with your family for years." 

"With my parents I haven't. It was by chance that I saw Ellen at the hospital when I went to pick up Phedre. I guess she was there for a scan or something. I pointed her out to Phedre and she kept an eye on Ellen, let me know when Andy was born. I waited `till she was alone, then went to see her. I tried to tell her what my father had done to me, but I did everything wrong. I mean, she was exhausted from giving birth, and there I was, her junkie lunatic brother, telling her that her beloved Daddy was a monster. Obviously, she wouldn't listen. All I wanted to do was stop what happened to me from happening to her son, but I failed." 

"So you're saying your sister knew that your father had a history of child abuse, but did nothing to stop him?" 

"No, you don't understand. It wasn't...she didn't _believe_ me. She wouldn't even listen, put her hands over her ears so that she _couldn't_ listen." 

"But when it happened, exactly as you'd predicted, surely she would have realised." 

"No. I think she put it out of her mind, forgot all about what I'd said. The mind believes what it wants, and rejects what it's incapable of accepting." 

"This was why you wanted to see Robert Lincoln, isn't it?" 

"Yes. I thought if I told him, then he could protect Andy, but I was scared. I didn't know if he was involved, and if I told him and he was, then. I was scared. I won't risk my family, Detective. My real family. Phedre and the baby we`re expecting." 

"I understand that. That must always have been the problem; not knowing who to trust. I'm not surprised you never told anyone." 

Jim's gaze sharpened as he took in the look that passed between Daniel and Phedre Morgan. 

"You did tell someone." 

"Yes. I told my mother. After the very first time. I told her that I didn't like what my daddy had made me do. I told her it hurt and I didn't want to do it again. She told me I was a wicked, ungrateful child to tell such horrible lies about a wonderful man like my father, and that I must never repeat this nonsense to anyone ever again. That was when I realised that she already knew." 

Blair jerked forward. "But...are you sure? She knew what was happening and didn't protect you? But she was you're _mother_!" 

"I know, but above that, she was my father's wife. She would never allow his position, and hers, to be jeopardised." 

"Daniel, would you be willing to testify to this in court?" 

"I don't know if it would do any good. I've told you my history. The drug abuse, the promiscuity. I was even committed once. I think my father was afraid that he was losing control of me, and Sinclair was happy to sign the papers. Who would believe me?" 

"We do. You were a child let down by the very people who should have been protecting you. Your behaviour was a direct result of the abuse you suffered. We can bring in experts to testify to that. What I find remarkable, and what will be apparent to a jury, is that you've turned your life around. You're a graduate student, well respected by his peers. It takes a strong man to do that. But Andy is still a child. He needs someone to stand up for him, and only you can do that. Will you?" 

"Yes. I'll do it. I will. It has to stop, I know that, so yes, I'll testify." 

* * *

"Will Simon have the search warrant ready by the time we get back to the station?" 

"No, but it shouldn't take long." 

"Do you think we'll find anything at the cabin?" 

"I think so. Lawler's arrogant. He thinks he can do whatever he wants with impunity, and that sort of attitude makes a man careless." 

"I still can't believe what we just heard. I mean, it was bad enough when it was Andy, and then Daniel, but how many kids are involved in this thing?" 

"Too many. Way too many. Hell, one is too many." 

"You got that right. Jim, do you think...oh, is that your phone or mine?" 

"Mine." Jim pulled it out, flipping it open. "Ellison?" 

Blair watched him, worried at the growing frown. "Jim" 

Jim gave him an `I'll tell you later' look, then went back to the call. 

"What? When did he...I see." 

"No, it wasn't anything to do with us." 

"No, I don't think that's a good idea. Look, where are you now?" 

"Yes, I know where that is. I want you to pull over and wait. We can be there in ten minutes." 

"It's only ten minutes. I'll explain when we get there." 

"I'm not sure. I need to check something out first." 

"Fine. See you in ten." 

Jim disconnected, rapidly dialling a new number. 

Exasperated, Blair slapped his arm. "Well?" 

"Did you hear any of that?" 

"Why do you always say that? You know I don't have Sentinel hearing, but still you always ask me if I heard that, or saw that, or..." 

"Chief." 

"No, Jim, all I got was your end, which I hate, by the way. So?" 

"It was Robert Lincoln. Lawler called him. Said he was no longer convinced of Lincoln's guilt, because of us, apparently." 

"Because of us?" 

"Apparently. So anyway, he invited Lincoln down to his cabin to talk about the situation, man to man." 

"But why would..." 

Jim stopped him with a raised finger as his call connected. 

"Mrs. Lincoln? This is Detective Ellison. I`d like to speak to Andy again. Would later this morning be convenient?" 

"I see. And when did they leave?" 

"No, it wasn't anything particular. It can wait." 

"Of course. We'll be in touch as soon as we have anything. Thank you for your time." 

He hung up, slamming his hand against the wheel. "Dammit, I should have expected something like this. Stupid." 

"What is it? What's happened?" 

"I think we rattled Lawler more than I'd realised, and now he's getting rid of the evidence." 

"You're not just talking about this room, are you." 

"No. He's taken Andy down to the cabin. That's why he wants Lincoln down there." 

"I don't get it?" 

"Andy was really close to telling you something yesterday. His wife must have told him that, and he won't risk anything getting out. The only way to be sure that doesn't happen is to get rid of Andy." 

"Oh my god. But why involve Robert Lincoln?" 

"Because he needs a fall guy. He's set Lincoln up as the abuser, now he's going to set him up for murder. Andy's murder. And I guarantee, he doesn't intend Lincoln to leave that cabin alive either." 

"He would do that? Kill is own grandson?" 

"He doesn't know that we've found Daniel. As far as he's concerned, Andy is the only witness against him. So yes, I think he would kill him." He tossed the phone to Blair. "Here, call Simon. Fill him in on what's going on. Tell him we're going to the cabin with Lincoln, and he should follow with the search warrant and back up as soon as possible. And to make it fast. We are out of time." 

* * *

Jim motioned Blair behind him as they crept around the side of the cabin. If Robert Lincoln had done as instructed then, yes, he had, the door was open. Good. Still, Jim wasn't happy about sending a civilian into a potentially lethal situation. "I don't like this." 

"What?" Blair whispered back. 

"Sending Lincoln in blind." 

"I know, but there was no other way. We need him to distract Lawler so we can find Andy. This place is huge, and he could be anywhere." 

"No kidding. It's a mansion." 

Jim had been shocked on first sight of the cabin. The word had conjured up a quaint rustic log structure, maybe with a wraparound porch. But this? There were two floors of colonial whitewashed elegance. Columns and balconies, and a wide sweeping driveway that cut it's way through the towering Douglas firs and red cedars. 

And contained somewhere inside was one small boy. Even Jim's sentinel hearing couldn't guarantee that they could locate and rescue him before Lawler got to him if they simply burst through the doors yelling `halt police!' Because, honestly, how often did anyone actually halt when they heard that? 

What Jim's hearing could do, however, was tell them where Lawler and Robert were, and what was going on between them. "Jim, can you hear Robert?" 

He's through there. Jim indicated a closed door to their right as they made their way down the hall. 

"And? What's going on?" 

"Lawler's threatening to...oh shit!" 

"What?" 

"Gun." 

Jim turned, throwing open the door he had indicated. Blair peered over his shoulder, eyes widening as he saw Robert backed into a corner, hands raised as Lawler aimed an alarmingly large gun at him. 

"Drop the gun Lawler." 

Recovering quickly from his shock, Lawler turned to Jim with false relief, lowering the gun, but not dropping it. 

"Detective, thank goodness you're here. Lincoln must have followed me. He broke in. I'm convinced he intended harm to both Andrew and myself." 

"That's a lie. I have never hurt Andy." 

Jim kept his weapon trained on Lawler. "Give it up, Lawler. You're not going to get away with this. Drop the gun." 

For an instant Lawler seemed about to resist, but then he tossed away his gun with an angry grunt. "You're making a mistake, Detective. I'll have your badge for this." 

"I don't think so. You're buddies won't be so keen to help you when they realise the charge is paedophilia. That's the one crime no one can stomach. Now, get on your knees, hands behind your head." 

Lawler complied with bad grace, Jim moving forward rapidly to cuff him, passing the links through the arm of a heavy oak chair so that he had no chance of escape. 

"You have no right to do this, Detective, I've done nothing wrong." 

Robert Lincoln stepped forward, scowling into Lawler's face. "Nothing? You call abusing my son nothing? And planning to murder him, and me. Is that _nothing_?" 

"That's nonsense. No-one will believe your demented accusations." 

"You think? Not even when they hear this?" 

Robert pulled a small recorder from his pocket, waving it at a shocked Lawler. "What, you didn't think I'd trust you, did you? You've been undermining my relationship with Ellen for years, but suddenly you want to help us reconcile? That`s up there with the flying pigs. I knew you were up to something, I just didn't know what. So I brought this along, so you couldn't lie about anything that was said later." 

He pressed the replay button, Lawler's self-satisfied voice flowing out. 

"You really are a fool, Robert. You've never been good enough for my daughter. She'll be better off without you. A shame about young Andrew. He had potential. Still, once you're both gone, Ellen will be free to begin again. She'll be sad, naturally, but her mother and I will be by her side to support her. In time, she will recover. She'll marry a man worthy of our family and give me more grandchildren." 

"What are you going to do? Where's Andy? If you hurt him..." 

"Me? Why, I'm going to do nothing. You will be the guilty party, not I. As I will brokenheartedly explain to the police, you forced your way onto my property, knocked me unconscious, then proceeded to perform heinous acts of depravity upon poor little Andrew. As soon as I regained my senses, I was able to retrieve my weapon and put an end to your evil intentions. Sadly, I arrived to late to save my beloved grandson, who succumbed to your vicious attack." 

Switching off the device, Robert looked triumphantly at Lawler. "Still think no-one will believe me? Now where's my son?" 

Lawler looked away, livid. 

Blair nudged Jim. "Did you know he had that?" 

"No, I didn't. Smart move, Lincoln. You did good." 

"It's admissible in court, right?" 

"Oh yeah. We got him." 

"Good, but it means nothing if he's already hurt Andy." 

"He won't have risked hurting Andy until you were here to take the blame. He's here, somewhere. Why don't you look around down here, Blair and I will check upstairs." 

"What about him." 

"He's going nowhere. Now let's find your son." 

* * *

Not surprisingly, it was Jim who found Andy, deeply asleep and almost certainly drugged, but otherwise unharmed. Calling Lincoln, he watched as the man hurried to his son's side, gathering the boy into his arms and holding him tight. 

Andy started to stir, opening sleepy eyes and looking around in confusion. He stiffened when he realised he was being held, but then he saw who was holding him. He smiled blindingly at his father, yawned massively, muttered, "Daddy," then curled up in his arms, fast asleep once again. 

Lincoln sobbed, stroking his son's hair. "Oh god. He's all right, isn't he?" 

"He will be. Lawler drugged him, but just enough to keep him quiet while he dealt with you." 

"Detective, I...thank-you." 

Jim patted his back, smiling. "Andy's safe. That's all that matters. Why don't you stay with him while we go secure the scene." 

Lincoln nodded, barely noticing as Jim and Blair left the room, all his attention on his son. 

"Jim, what's up?" 

"That's not the room Daniel Morgan described." 

"No, but Jim, that was years ago." 

"I don't think that was something he was ever likely to forget." 

"I wasn't saying that, just that there was no reason to believe that the room still exists." 

"I think it does. Lawler didn't use it for Andy, because he wanted his body found, and he needed to keep that room concealed." 

"Yeah, I buy that. So we're going to go look for it?" 

"No, we can't, not until Simon gets here with the search warrant. I don't want to risk any evidence we find being thrown out because we didn't follow procedure." 

"But we already came in without a warrant. He can`t get off because of that, can he?" 

"I'm counting on imminent jeopardy to cut through the red tape there, but that only worked until we recovered Andy." 

"So what are you planning if we can't search." 

"Hotter-colder." 

"What is that, some new cop code? Because I gotta tell you, it means squat to me." 

"You know, its that game, where something is hidden, and when the person looking for it gets close they get told they're getting hotter." 

"And colder when they move away. I'm with you, but I don't think Lawler is going to play." 

"He doesn't have to. I'll just wander around, and when his heart rate speeds up, I'll know I'm close." 

"Cool. You're getting really good at finding new ways to use your senses. I'm impressed." 

* * *

Amazingly, hotter-colder worked. While he appeared unconcerned, Lawler's pulse rate rocketing as Jim absently kicked at the bearskin rug spread before the fireplace in the room in which he was secured. And that was where they found the trapdoor that led down to the room. 

Blair felt sick as they searched it. Daniel had exaggerated nothing. The place was a horror story. Blood stained the floor, faint, but enough for Jim to see, and it would be enough for a forensics team, too. The mirrors and lights were exactly as Daniel had told them, but what he hadn't told them about, because he didn't know they were there, were the cameras. Four of them, surrounding the bed, covering it from all angles so not a moment of a child victims pain would be missed. 

When Jim found the false wall and the boxes of tapes and photographs, Simon stopped the search, ordering them upstairs until the CSI's could scour the room for evidence. 

The FBI showed up shortly before twelve and began to search the surrounding woodland. Less than an hour later they found the first grave down by the lake. 

That was as much as Blair could take. Andy was gone now, carried off by air ambulance, his father in attendance. Jim was deep in conversation with Simon, filling him in on all that had happened. What with Cascade PD, the local Sheriff's office and the FBI there were enough people searching, they didn't need him. 

He walked out the front door, down the drive to where they'd left the truck. He climbed in, curling into the passenger seat, arms wrapped around drawn up knees. 

* * *

Worried, Jim took in Blair's withdrawn posture. 

"Chief?" 

Slowly, Blair raised his head. "I'm sorry Jim. I had to get out of there." 

"It's okay, I don't blame you." He sighed. "It's so beautiful here. Hard to believe that so much evil could happen in such an idyllic setting." 

"But it did. God, Jim, those pictures. Boxes of them. How many children have been hurt here?" 

"I don't think all of those photo's were taken in that room." 

"But some of them were. A lot of them." 

"Yes. FBI will have someone assign ages to the kids. They'll use the Tanner scale. There are certain markings that tell you how old a kid is. Then they check missing persons reports, try to identify them, match them up with the bodies." 

"How many have they found?" 

"Eleven so far. They're still looking." 

"I can't believe this, Jim. All we were supposed to be doing was protecting _one_ kid, and now all this. It's...god." 

"I know, Chief, believe me, I know. But it's over now. I was right about Lawler being careless. There was a computer in his office. It has all kinds of information on it; names, dates, places. We're going to shut these people down. It doesn't matter who they are, or how many powerful friends they have, they are going to jail for a very long time." 

"Good. I hope they rot." 

"Yeah. Look, Simon wants us to go back the station and get our reports filed. Are you up for that?" 

"Yes. I want to get this over with and move on." 

"Same here, buddy. Same here." 

* * *

Where had she gone? He was sure he had seen Mommy just ahead of him, and he had run to catch her, really fast, but now she was gone. 

He had to find her. Once he found her he would be safe. She would never let the it hurt him. But it was so hard to run. His legs felt so heavy, and he couldn't seem to lift his arms. Roots would trip him, and branches whip at his face, but he had to go on. 

There wasn't much time. He could hear it behind him, coming up fast. Frightened trees would bend from its path, leading it right to him. It was so much faster than him, so much bigger. Its teeth were so sharp, its claws like knives, slashing, cutting into his flesh, twisting into him, hurting him. He had to find Mommy before it found him, or he would be lost forever. He had to find Mommy. 

Oh no! Something had grabbed his foot. He was falling. For one horrifying moment, he thought that it had caught him. He was afraid to look back, afraid of what he would see, but he had to. He had to be brave. It was vines! It was only vines. He reached down, pulling them away, then he forced himself up. He stumbled forward, pushing his way through the thick bushes and fell into the clearing, and there she was. Mommy. He was safe. 

He reached for her, his hands grabbing her dress. She turned, smiling brightly at him. She knelt, holding her arms out to him, and he ran into them, wrapping around her and holding on desperately. She laughed, stroking his hair and patting his cheeks. He was safe. His Mommy would never let it get him. He was safe. 

He heard the growling behind him. It was here, it had found him! He whimpered, clinging tighter. He could feel it's hot breath on the back of his neck sending shivers down his spine. He whimpered again, buying his face in Mommy shoulder. It was here, but it would be alright because so was Mommy. She would take care of him. She would take him away from here. She would take him somewhere it could never find him again. He was safe. He was with his mommy. 

He turned his head, looking into her face. She laughed, kissing the tears from his cheeks, then she looked behind him. Her eyes moved upward and she looked straight at it. 

He watched her, waiting for the smile to turn into a glare. He waited for her to tell it to go, to make it leave him alone. He waited for her anger. He waited for her comfort. He waited and waited, but she just kept smiling. She smiled at him, rubbing her nose against his. 

Then she stood up. 

She stepped away from him. 

She pushed him backwards. 

She handed him over to the bogeyman. 

Blair sat up, gasping for breath, clutching at his chest as if that would calm his pounding heart. 

Jim reached for him, drawing him close. 

"It's okay, Baby, you're safe here." 

"Oh god, Jim, I remember. I remember what happened. I remember it all." 

"Can you talk about it, Chief?" 

"I was about seven. We went to this commune. Well, it wasn't a real commune. There was a big old house, with lawns and a wood, and there was this one guy, I think maybe he owned the place. His name was Wayne, I think. And then there was a bunch of women. I can't remember all of them. And there was Michael. I do remember him. He was Wayne's son, probably about sixteen, but to me he seemed so grown up. 

I adored him. He was really good to me. He would read to me from his comics, and play with me. He took me riding sometimes, setting me up in front of him on the saddle. I remember there were chickens, and Michael taught me how to feed them and how to collect eggs. I used to trail around after him all the time and he would let me. It was like having a big brother and I loved it." 

"It sounds like a good place for a kid." 

"It was, at first." 

"Did Michael..." 

"Oh no, not him. He was...he really was my friend. It was Wayne. He...I was asleep. I felt him, felt his breath on my face and his hands...he was pulling at my clothes. I could feel his weight pressing me down. I tried to wriggle away but he wouldn't let me go. I couldn't move at all, and when I tried to call for Naomi, he put his hand over my mouth. He told me to keep still, that he wouldn't hurt me, but he did. I didn't enjoy it like he said I would, not at all." 

Blair closed his eyes, pressing into Jim. 

"Chief, you don`t have to..." 

"Yes I do, Jim. I've pushed this away for so long I didn't even know...I _need_ to get this out, or I'll never be free of it." 

"Okay, maybe you're right." 

"I am. I may have repressed the memories, but my subconscious knew. So many things make more sense now, reasons why I've reacted the way I have. The panic attacks for a start. I could never work out what they were all about, but now I know. And then there's us. I've even let it come between us, Jim, and don't pretend you haven't noticed." 

"Well, there have been a few times when I've felt you distancing yourself from me, I guess." 

"There you see? Why would I do that? I love you, and I want our relationship to work more than anything else in the world." 

"That's good to know. Good to hear, too." 

Blair smiled at him. "It's true, Jim, every word. You're the first, you know." 

"The first? Do you mean the first man you've been with." 

"No. Yes, but no." 

"Oh, okay. Could be clearer, Chief." 

"I mean, yes, you are the first man I've been with, and I did think that that's what was freaking me out, but now I'm not so sure. I think it's more that you're the first person who's ever really mattered. Before you, it was always casual, no commitments, no chance to get hurt. It could never have been that way with you. You were the most important person in my life even before I fell in love with you." 

"Chief, you know it's the same for me, don't you?" 

"Yes, I do, and that's even more terrifying." 

"I'm with you there, buddy, but it's worth a little terror to have you in my life." 

Blair smiled, leaning against him, covering Jim's hands with his own. 

"Are you ready to go on, Chief?" 

Blair nodded, sighing deeply. "Yes. There's not that much more, anyway. Once he was done, he fell asleep. I crawled out of the bad and hid in the closet. I don't know how long I was in there, it felt like forever, but when I finally came out, he was gone. I was too scared to even leave my room at first, but I wanted my mother. 

I was so scared going down those stairs. I expected him to jump out and grab me at any moment, but he didn't. I made it outside and I saw my mother sitting out on the lawn with some of the other women. I ran to her and threw myself into her arms and tried to tell her what had happened. I must have been babbling, not making any sense, so she took me inside to the kitchen and got me some milk and cookies until I calmed down. Then I told her, Jim. I told her everything. And she didn't believe me." 

"Oh Chief." 

"She said I must have been dreaming, having a nightmare, because of course, Wayne would never do anything like that. Wayne was a good man, and it was wrong of me to say bad things about him that couldn't possibly be true." 

"Chief, if she'd understood..." 

"But she wouldn't even listen. I was her son, and she was supposed to take care of me, but she didn't. She gave me to him." 

"No, she wouldn't, she..." 

"She _did_. She told him what I had said and sent him to me. He told me I had to go with him, that Naomi wanted me to go with him." 

"But you can't believe what a man like that said. He lied to you, Chief. Naomi would never..." 

"Then how did he know? How could he know that I had told Naomi what he'd done if she didn't tell him? He was angry with me, and he was going to hurt me, and she let him. He took me out to the woods, and I knew I wasn't going to be coming back. I kicked him, and when he let go of me, I ran. I could hear him following me, crashing through the trees, and I didn't think I'd ever get away, but then I fell through some bushes, and I heard him running past. He didn't see me." 

"How did you get away from there?" 

"Michael. I heard him calling for me. I didn't answer at first, because I was scared, but then I remembered how kind he'd always been to me. So I went to him. He took my hand and led me back to the house. Naomi was waiting there. She had our bags all packed and we left. I never saw Wayne ever again." 

"See, Naomi did believe you. She took you away." 

"No, it wasn't like that. She was angry. With me. I think Wayne must have told her to leave and she blamed me. She told me I should forget that we had ever been in that house, and I must never talk about Wayne again. And I never did." 

"God that's, Chief, I don't know what to say. I know it's a lot to ask, but do you think you can remember where this place was?" 

"Why? What does it matter if...no, stupid question. If he did it to me, he probably did it to other children too, and may still be doing it. I don't know, Jim. I'm pretty sure I would recognise the place if I saw it again, but...no, wait, I remember. After we left, Naomi took me to Saint Sebastian's. It was the first time I was ever there. She left me there, for weeks, alone. If it hadn't been for Brother Marcus." 

"He took care of you?" 

"Yes. He knew something had happened, and I'm reasonably sure he had a good idea what, but he never pushed me. He encouraged me to talk to him, but when I wouldn't he let me be. He pulled me back from the edge, Jim, let me feel safe again. I think if it wasn't for him, I would have turned out much more neurotic than I did." 

"Remind me to thank him the next time I see him." 

"I will, and, do you think that could be soon? I know we're going to be insanely busy until this case is over, but I would like to take some time away. With you. Somewhere quiet where we can just be." 

"Sounds good, and I promise, we'll go as soon as we can both get away." 

"Thanks, Jim. Look, I don't think I'll be able to get back to sleep. You want to go downstairs and watch a movie." 

"Sure. I'll make us some cocoa. Why don't you pick the movie." 

Blair was wrong. He did fall asleep, shortly after the battle for Helm's Deep, wrapped securely in a comforter and Jim's arms. 

* * *

Jim cast a nervous glance at Blair as he followed him into the bullpen. The last week had been good for them. No more nightmares since they had discovered their source, but Blair had decided that some sessions with his friend Christina would still be a good idea. He had a lot pf repressed memories to work through, and he was going to need help. As promised, Jim had gone with him for both of the sessions. He would never be comfortable talking about his emotions, but Blair's appreciation of his participation and their growing closeness was compensation enough. 

But now he was worried that the information he had for Blair would set back his progress. In spite of sharing his plans with Christina, and her approval, he was still wary of telling Blair what he had discovered. 

It had been surprisingly easy to track down the `Wayne' of Blair's nightmares. There Really weren't that many fabulously wealthy men who owned large estates within striking distance of Saint Sebastian's monastery. A few phone calls and he knew everything. But he still hadn't told Blair, and he needed to. 

"Chief..." 

"Oh, hey Jim, there's Martha in with Simon. Do you think it's okay for us to go in? I wouldn't want to disturb them if they want privacy." 

"If they do then I'm sure they'll tell us. Besides, they haven't even shut the door, so how private can they want to be. Come on." 

Jim strode to the door, knocking then going straight in without waiting for an answer. 

"Hey Simon. Martha, it's good to see you." 

"You too, Jim. Hi, Blair." 

"Martha. I've been hoping to see you." 

"And here I am." 

"Yes. Here you are. Look, I wanted to say, I'm sorry about the way things turned out." 

"Sorry? Blair, because of you and Jim we've busted a nationwide paedophile ring. Why would you be sorry for that." 

"Not for that, but you brought us into this to help your friend, and we couldn't." 

"Blair's right, Martha. We have to have made things worse for her. I know she was investigated." 

"That wasn't your fault guys, it was inevitable once it came out that her brother had warned her of what her father was capable. No-one could believe that she didn't even suspect him after that, especially when abuse actually did occur." 

"I have to say, if I hadn't talked with her, I'd have trouble with that myself." 

"I know, Jim. It's almost like she was brainwashed into believing every word her parents told her. She wouldn't even accept it was true after the arrest. She kept insisting that her father had been set up. That he couldn't possibly be guilty, and that it had to be a mistake. But then the stories kept appearing in the papers, and it was almost all of her fathers friends. Men she had known all her life. She's destroyed. Totally destroyed. She's lost everything. You knew they arrested Grace Lawler as an accessory?" 

Jim nodded. "I heard. I'm not surprised. She's known for years what her husband was doing, and done nothing to stop him. I still can't get over how huge this thing is." 

"Judges, doctors, school officials, lawyers, it keeps growing and growing. And the children. They come form all over. We may never identify them all." 

Blair looked pained. "But how did they get here?" 

"That's what these people do. They trade kids, move them all over the country. And unlike Howard Lawler, most of them keep away from their own family members, which is why they're so hard to catch." 

"Why _did_ Lawler use Andy, when he had access to so many other children?" 

"I don't know, Jim. I guess he got complacent, thought he was above suspicion, and until you started investigating, he was right. But Andy's safe now, and that's because of you. I hate what it's done to Ellen, but that's what matters most." 

Blair smiled sadly. "Yes, that's what matters most, and at least she still has him, right?" 

"Well, maybe eventually." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Andy is living with Robert, Blair. By his own choice." 

"But she didn't know. How can he think it's her fault?" 

"He's five years old, Blair. Five year olds aren't logical. All he understands is, his mother took him away from the only security he had left and delivered him to his abuser. And then his father saved him. He's lost trust in her, and it's not going to be easy for her to get that back. Luckily, Robert cares more about his son's well-being than he does about getting back at Ellen. He's agreed to family therapy, and he's given her open access. She can see Andy whenever she wants to, but so far her own guilt is getting in the way. She needs to work through that before she can help Andy." 

"Is she strong enough?" 

"I hope so, Jim, I really hope so. I think they need each other to heal." 

"Any chance of Robert and Ellen getting back together?" 

"No. They're over Blair. Sometimes love isn't enough. Robert may be able to forgive Ellen for believing what she did about him, but he'll never forget that she chose her parents over him." 

Simon clapped his hands, shattering the mood. "I don't know about you all, but I've had enough misery. The sun is shining, it's Sunday tomorrow, so how about you guys come on over for a barbecue?" 

Jim dropped his hand onto Blair's shoulder, stopping him from replying. "Sorry, Simon, we have plans. Maybe next week." 

"We have plans?" 

"Yeah, I was going to tell you about it later." 

"How much later, I mean, it's tomorrow." 

"Maybe now. Can we go talk?" 

Blair looked intently into his eyes, then nodded and left. With a wave to Simon and Martha, Jim followed him. 

* * *

"Okay, Jim. Spill." Blair stood in the door to the break room, arms crossed. 

Sighing Jim rubbed the back of his neck. "I found out about _Wayne_." 

"Oh." Shocked, Blair dropped into the nearest chair. 

Jim sat beside him, gripping his arm. "Chief?" 

"I'm fine. What do you know?" 

"Full name, Wayne Parker Crawford. Old money. Orphaned at twenty-two, inherited a fortune. Went travelling, came back two years later with a two month old baby but no wife, or even girlfriend. No-one seemed to know anything about his child's mother. He settled down in the family home and started collecting women. Some stayed only a few months, others stayed years." 

"What about Michael, who took care of him?" 

"I don't know." 

"But, didn't anyone check up on him? What about social services?" 

"Crawford's family founded the town. They still owned large chunks of it. I don't think anyone dared challenge him." 

"But...school?" 

"Home schooled. One of Crawford's women had teaching credentials apparently. And that's pretty much it for fifteen years. Then he disappeared." 

"Disappeared?" 

"He was gone for two weeks before he was reported missing, and that was by his lawyers when suppliers started complaining that they weren't being paid. When the police went up to the house, they were met by complacent abstraction. No-one seemed concerned by his absence, and when asked why nothing was reported, the answers they got were vague. One woman thought that maybe he had left with a young woman and her son who had been staying there." 

"Us. Naomi and me." 

"Yes. The general consensus was that he would be back when he was ready. The possibility of drugs was mentioned." 

"I can believe that." 

"Anyway, the local police weren't happy with the situation and mounted a search. They found him on the fifth day. He'd fallen down a disused well shaft and broken his leg. The report said that he had died less than two before he was discovered, of dehydration, malnutrition and exposure." 

"Oh my god." 

"I know." 

"It must have been when he was chasing me." 

"Appropriate, don't you think?" 

"I guess so. He's really dead?" 

"Yes. And has been since he hurt you." 

"What happened to the others? Michael and the women?" 

"Michael inherited everything held in trust until he was eighteen. His lawyer was appointed guardian. He'd been a close friend of Michael's grandparents and had expressed concern in the past about the way Michael was being raised." 

"So he was okay?" 

"Yes. He was sent to a decent boarding school and he's a child psychologist now, as is his wife. They turned the estate into a retreat for emotionally damaged children. I made a few calls and the place has a good reputation. One of the highest success rates of any rehabilitation facility of it's kind." 

"That's good. I'm glad. He was great with me, so I can see him being a success at that." 

"I spoke to him, Chief. I told him all about you." 

"Our plans for tomorrow?" 

"Yes. He said he'd like to talk to you, but it`s up to you. I can call back and cancel if you don't want to go." 

"I think I need to Jim. I need closure, and I'm hoping Michael can give it to me." 

* * *

Jim took another peek at Blair. He was sitting so straight and quiet, and had been for the entire three hour journey. Jim didn't like it. It wasn't normal. He should be bouncing about, playing with tapes. He should be pointing out rabbits, and birds, and unexpected rock formations. He should be making Jim listen for things as he always did when they left the city. But he wasn't. he wasn't saying anything. He wasn't moving. He wasn't being Blair. 

Maybe if he offered information? It would be like doughnuts; easy to refuse unless they were right in front of you. He extended his hearing, expecting to hear animals and birds. Maybe the wind in the trees. What he hadn't expected was singing. "Huh." 

"Jim?" 

"I can hear singing." 

"You're using your hearing?" 

"Yeah, and I hear singing. If Julie Andrews comes running over that hill, shoot me." 

"Someone must have a radio on nearby." 

"No, it's not a radio. It's definitely singing. Kids singing. And giggling" 

"A scout troop?" 

"Could be, or maybe they're from the estate." 

"Not too many damaged kids sing and giggle." 

"So they got better. It is why they're there after all." 

"That would be cool. I can't imagine Andy being happy enough to sing just now, but it would be good to believe that he will be someday." 

"It would. How are you doing, Chief?" 

"I'm fine. No, I'm not. I'm nervous, but I want to do this." 

"He sounded okay. Michael. When I talked to him." 

"I always liked him. Oh my god, stop." 

"What?" 

"The house. It's through those trees. I remember." 

"If you want to turn back..." 

"No. We're here now. Let's go on." 

* * *

Blair fidgeted in his chair, trying not to stare at the man opposite. Michael had changed so little. Older, of course, his thick dark hair greying now, but still, Blair would have known him anywhere. Had, in fact, felt a shock of recognition the moment Michael opened the door to them. 

It had been awkward, neither of them knowing what to say or how to act. Finally, Michael had fallen back on standard host behaviour, taking them on a tour of the house and making introductions. But that was done with now. They had met Michael's wife, Miranda, his two teenaged children, had made small talk, and now, here they were, nothing left to do but talk about the reason for Blair's visit. But where to start? 

He looked pleadingly at Jim, getting a reassuring smile and the help he needed. 

"So, quite the place you've got here, Mr. Crawford." 

Michael looked as relived as Blair felt at Jim's question, nodding enthusiastically. 

"Thank you. Miranda and I have worked hard to make this a safe environment for the children. The animals you saw are a big part of that. Children who have suffered abuse and neglect are often afraid to touch. Those who have been neglected, who are troubled and abused, often don't have a high level of trust. Animals offer unconditional love, which is key to the program's success. 

Damaged children don't always understand what "good touch" means. Most of them have experienced touch in an unhealthy manner or no touch at all. This situation may cause a child to become depressed and cause the development of attachment difficulties. 

The objective of this program is to assist in the healing process and allow children to experience good, healthy touching. It increases a child's knowledge and understanding of self-esteem. Also teaching the children a great deal about the animal kingdom and how to build their relationship with them. Our aim is that through the Animal Therapy Program, they can begin to trust and touch again. 

I'm sorry, I'm preaching, aren't I. This must all sound very new-agey to you, Detective." 

"It's Jim, and it sounds as if you believe in what you're doing. I'm all for anything that helps children who've been hurt." 

"Yes, well, I have a lot to make up for, which is why were all here, isn't it?" 

Blair took a deep breath. "Yes, it is. But Michael, you do know it wasn't your fault, don't you?" 

"Wasn't it? You weren't the first, you know. As far back as I can remember, there were the children. I would see them arrive, bright, happy, carefree. I'd watch all that joy for living sucked out until there was nothing left but a shell. And I did nothing to stop it. But do you know what makes me feel the most guilt?" 

Blair shook his head, eyes wide. 

"It was never me. He never once touched me, only the children of the women who stayed here. And I was relieved. I was glad it was them, and not me." 

"Michael, that's natural. You were a child yourself. What could you have done." 

"I don't know. Something." 

"There were adults here. Those children had mothers. It was their responsibility to protect their children, not yours." 

"But they didn't know. They trusted him, and I knew what he was." 

"They should have known." 

"How, if the kids didn't tell them? And abused kids rarely do tell. My father was good at, you know; being an abuser. He knew just how to guilt the kids into doing what he wanted, or how to trick them if that didn't work. He would get them to like him, want to please him. They might want the behaviour to stop, but they wouldn't want to lose his attention. And then, for some of those kids, he wasn't the first, so they wouldn't know that it's not supposed to be that way. It wouldn't have been hard to convince them that what he was doing was normal, or that they didn't have a choice. You were the exception. Blair." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You didn't fall for his guff. It was like you could see straight through him, young as you were. He hated that. It scared me, how desperate he was getting to have you, but I didn't know what to do. I tried to watch over you. I kept you with me as much as possible, but it was no good. When he couldn't talk you into doing what he wanted, he forced you, didn`t he?" 

"Yes, he did." 

"And even then, you didn't react like the others. You told. You went straight to your mother and told her everything." 

"A lot of good that did me. She wouldn't believe me. She went straight to him and told him he could have me." 

"No Blair, that's not what happened." 

"Michael, he knew that I'd told her. How could he know that if she didn't tell him." 

"Because she confronted him. I heard it. I was listening outside the door and I heard it all. Maybe she didn't believe you at first. I mean, it's hard to accept that you've exposed your child to that sort of predator, but once she'd had some time, she must have realised that you would never make up a thing like that. I heard them talking. She knew you hadn't lied, but he was so...plausible. He could make anyone believe anything, and that's what he was doing. He was so clever. He never said that you had lied, only that you had misunderstood. That he had only meant to be friendly, but you had misconstrued his actions. She wanted to believe him, I could see that, but she wasn't going t leave it at that. She wanted you all to sit down together and talk things through. He would never allow that." 

"What did he do?" 

"He drugged her. Made her a cup of tea to calm her nerves and spiked it. Once she was out, he went to find you." 

"So she didn't..." 

"No. She was nave, but she never betrayed you. She loved you, Blair, don't ever doubt it." 

"He told me she wanted me to go with him." 

"He lied. Always." 

"When he took me to the woods." 

"I think he was going to kill you, Blair. You'd told once, he could never be sure you wouldn't tell someone else. I didn't know what to do. There was only one phone, and it was locked up in the study. By the time I could get help, it would be too late. You would be dead, and I just knew he'd be able to talk his way out of it somehow. He always did. So I followed. I don't know what I intended, but I knew I had to be close. I saw you kick him and take off. He ran after you, and I ran after him. Then I couldn't see you anymore." 

"I fell in a bush." 

"You were lucky. I kept after him, then he was just gone. I stopped running and I heard him, shouting in pain. When I went forward I saw what had happened. There had been an old well, all overgrown and the planks covering it had rotted. He fell right in. I could see straight away that his leg was broken, and that he wouldn't be getting out without help. 

He saw me, and thought he was saved. He started giving me orders, telling me to go get a ladder, to get him out, and when I didn't move, he started cursing me. Then when I still did nothing, he started making promises. That he would leave you alone, that he would never hurt another child again, but he _lied_. He always _lied_. I couldn't trust him. I knew that if I got him out you would be dead, and probably your mother too. And me. I couldn't...I didn't know what to do. I left him there. I told myself that someone would find him. He'd be fine, and in the meantime, you could get away. I started calling for you, and when I found you, I took you back to the house. 

Naomi was there. I don't think she had any idea what danger you'd been in. She must have realised what he had done to her, but she had no idea what he intended for you. She probably thought you'd run off. She had your bags packed and once I handed you over she just left. She never said a word to me, and I never told her what had happened. I never saw either of you again, until today." 

"God, Michael. This is...you never told anyone where he was?" 

"I was scared. I thought someone would notice that he was gone, and they did, but it was assumed that he had gone off with you and Naomi. He did that sometimes. Went off with one woman and came back a week or so later with a completely different one. So no-one did anything. If it hadn't been near the end of the month, it would have been even longer before anything was done. He always sent out the checks to our produce and fuel suppliers at the end of the month, and when it wasn't done, he was reported missing and the police showed up. 

I thought that was it. I was almost glad that it would be over. I thought that they would find him, that he would tell them that I had abandoned him, then I would go to jail. I didn't even care about that, because I would be away from him. And you were safe. That's what mattered the most. You were gone and wouldn't be involved." 

"But he was dead." 

"Yes. That was...a shock. I never thought he would die. It always seemed like he was invulnerable. I just never thought he would die. So what happens now?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I just confessed to leaving my father to die. I assume your friend the detective will want to arrest me." 

"I see no reason for that. You didn't push him. It was an accident." 

"But you're a police officer. Aren't you supposed to be all about justice?" 

"He died because he was chasing down a child in order to kill him. As I see it, that _is_ justice." 

"Oh, I...uh, I hadn't expected that." 

"Besides, even if I wanted to arrest you, the statute of limitations for manslaughter ran out a long time ago. You're in the clear with the law, and you should let yourself off the hook, too. Focus on the fact that you saved Blair and all the other children he would have hurt if he had lived." 

"I know. I hated him, but...he was still my father. I think that's one of the reasons that I went into this field. So I could understand what he was, and so I would never become him." 

"Not possible. Even back then, you were better than him. That's the one thing I regret; that I forgot you along with the bad stuff." 

"Yes, Jim told me about that. He said that you had totally blocked out the entire incident. What brought it back." 

"A case we were working on. It had some scary parallels, and I started having nightmares. Eventually, it all came back. I told Jim, and he found you." 

"A case? Not the one I've been reading about? The child sex ring?" 

"That's the one, although we had no idea it would be so big. We were just trying to protect one child. Actually, Jim, don't you think this place would be great for Andy? Martha said that Robert was willing to undergo family therapy." 

"That's not a bad idea. Michael, do you treat the children only, or do you deal with families?" 

"Usually it's just the kids, but we do have some units set aside for families. Look, why don't I give you some literature about our work here. If your friends are interested then we'd be happy to accommodate them." 

Jim took the package and stood, preparing to leave. They had what they came for, now Blair would need time to absorb what he had learned. 

"Blair, you about ready to leave?" 

"Yes, for now, but Michael, I'd like to keep in touch if that's okay with you?" 

"Of course it is. I'd love to catch up on what you're doing. After all, if things had been different, and if my father had been such a sick bastard, we might have been brothers." 

Blair laughed, reaching to take Michael's hand, then changing his mind and pulling him into a hug before following Jim out to the truck. 

* * *

So here they were, back in the truck, and Blair was still not being Blair. 

"Chief, do you think you could start bugging me about something. Anything. All this sitting quietly and not annoying me is totally freaking me out." 

"Sorry, Jim, I'm all out of irritating." 

"Yeah. Hell of a day, huh?" 

"He saved me, Jim. He let his father die to save me, and he thought we were going to turn him in. And even thinking that, he still told us what happened." 

"Because he's a good man, Blair. You were right to trust him when you were a child. And right not to trust his father." 

"Shame Naomi couldn't do the same." 

"It is, but the truth is, that even then you were a better judge of character that she was. That doesn't make her a bad person. In the end, she did believe you, and she took you away from there. She was Ellen, not Grace." 

"I thought she was angry with me, but it wasn't me, was it?" 

"She was angry with herself, for what she let happen to you." 

"What I don't understand is why she left me. Just left me all alone to deal with it by myself." 

"Remember what Martha was saying about Ellen? That she had to deal with her own guilt before she could be of any use to Andy. I think it was like that with Naomi. She took you to a place where she knew you would be safe, then she went away to deal with her own demons. When she came back and you seemed to have forgotten all about it, she must have been relieved. Decided that it was for the best and then put it out of her own mind. No disrespect to your mom, but she does tend to view the world on her own terms." 

"Yeah, that's her alright. She tells herself that she's open to any and all new experiences, but she's really not. She's always searching, but she doesn't really want to find anything, because then she might have to make a decision. A commitment. She can't see that her freedom is really fear." 

"Are you okay with that?" 

"I have to be. It's who she is, and she will always be my mother. I love her, and I know she loves me as much as she's able. But Jim, she'll never be a part of my life the way you are, and I'll never need or want her the way I do you." 

Jim swallowed, reaching out to take Blair's hand. 

"You know, they really don't need us so much for the case. SVU are taking care of the local victims and the FBI have the rest. Once the trial starts it will be different, but that won't be for months. I have a lot of time saved up and you have spring break next week, so why don't we take that trip to Saint Sebastian's?" 

"Really?" 

"Sure, if you want." 

"Or we could go to Vegas." 

"What happened to peace and quiet and time to sort through your emotions." 

"Jim, we are in therapy, we can sort out our emotions there. I know I was the one who wanted to go to the monastery, but everything's been so intense. I want to have some fun." 

"So, Vegas?" 

"Yeah, Vegas." 

"You know, there is one thing we could do in Vegas that we couldn't do at Saint Sebastian's." 

"What's that?" 

Jim cleared his throat. Looking distinctly furtive. "We could get married." 

"Jim! Are you proposing?" 

"I don't know. Would you be accepting?" 

"I...would. Yes, I would be accepting." 

"Then I guess I'm proposing." 

They looked at each other, both somewhat stunned, then looked straight ahead, then back at each other. 

Jim gulped. "You know, I never thought I'd marry someone with more chest hair than me." 

"And I never thought I'd marry someone taller than me." 

"Chief, everyone's taller than you." 

"Again with the short jokes. And this is the man I'm committing my life to." 

"Yeah, it is." 

"Yeah. It is." 

They beamed at each other, huge, contented grins that wouldn't fade, an echo of the happiness that would always fill their lives. 

** _The End_ ** 

* * *

End 

The Sins of the Father by Remma: morennab@yahoo.co.uk  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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